M to the X Phase 1: The Darkest Star
by DaSalvatore
Summary: AU of Son of Potter. Harry Potter/Melania Black never got their happy ending. They, along with last surviving friends, perform a ritual to take them away from their dead world. They arrive on a world filled with mutants, heroes, villains, a Norse prophecy Odin is desperate to avoid even if it means their deaths. And the Queen issues a Royal Request to rebuild Hogwarts! Harry/Multi
1. A Fresh Start

**AN: This story is based off my "Son of Potter, Daughter of Black" story. Unlike with SoPDoB, this universe never got its happy ending. You don't have to know anything about "Son of Potter" as the most important part of that story (Harry/Melania) is explained in this chapter.**

 **The following story is going to be a Harry Potter/Marvel crossover with various inclusions of DC concepts and characters as well as similar from other fictions. I own no rights to any of it.**

 **The story world is mainly set in Marvel's MCU universe with their main 616 reality merged into MCU (not the other way around). It was initially inspired by Vimesenthusiast's "A Third Path to the Future." I have some issues with how that story is told and so this was born. The merging of different fictions is inspired by the beautiful way Nimbus Lleweyln did similar in"Child of the Storm."**

 **This story is going to span the majority of the MCU timeline as well have a large number of X-Men comic stories. It starts in 2008, the year before Iron Man 1 and Giant Sized X-Men 1 which introduced the second team (Colossus, Thunderbird, Nightcrawler, Storm, Banshee, Sunfire and Wolverine). The only X-Men film that is relevant to this story is X-Men: First Class.**

 **This story will have superhero action but also plenty of business and political action as well. It has at least one Multi/Harem relationship with various mentions of same-sex relationships either in the multi or independent. I have not decided if there will be lemons but you will be warned if there are. As of writing this, the current plans of relationships are:**

 **Harry/Melania - Psylocke (friends with benefits), Daphne Greengrass (friends with benefits). In future, it will be a serious relationship with Jean Grey, Susan Storm, Scarlet Witch/Wanda Maxmimoff and perhaps adult Katherine "Kitty" Pryde. I have not decided if anyone else will be involved.**

 **Neville - Married to Luna**

 **Blaise Zabini - Natasha Romanov**

 **I'll keep a note of any relationship changes in later Author Notes.**

 **I have a Patre0n account for anyone wishing to put a tip in the jar for my original concepts. Just search for DaSalvatore.**

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A Fresh Start

 ** _"I am the Watcher. In the reality you know, the history of the X-Men balanced on their fight against Krakoa the Living Island._**

 ** _In another, there are no mutants. Instead, there are extraordinary people with the power of magic._**

 ** _But there are other, even stranger, worlds in the multiverse. Realities separated by the thinnest of curtains. Where Destiny has taken a different course than the one you know._**

 ** _Including this one. Where a group of wizards and witches have permission to leave their dying world and join one with mutants. It is an act that changes the entire fabric of everything._**

 ** _I am Uatu the Watcher and this is the story of what I see."_**

Melania Cassiopeia Lilith Black, sometimes known as Harry James Potter, stood atop an indiscriminate mountain in the Scottish Highlands and stared down at the flooded plain that once contained the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She was one of the very last flickers of light in the darkness that had destroyed the world. A darkness that had destroyed everything and almost everyone she ever loved.

The fifty-eight-year-old witch was unusual even among those born with magic. Her mother, Lily Potter, had been hit with a curse that would destroy mother and child if she ever fell pregnant. Lily Potter had refused to accept that as a reality. Lily had Potter been a genius of the highest order.

She had used a combination of magic and genetics, taking the illegal Blood-Adoption as a foundation. It enabled a child to have three parents or completely override the child's biology with a new set of donors but only worked once the child was born. She would find a way to combine the potion with the Black family's Metamorphmagi ability. The result was a child of two fathers whose magic and genes swapped faster than the curse could follow.

The genetics of James and Lily Potter had created Harry, an emerald-eyed version of his father right up to his scruffy hair and propensity to get into trouble. The genetics of Lily mixing with Sirius Orion Black had made Melania, a true snake capable of striking down her enemies without any hesitation or mercy.

The three parents making up the unique child came from powerful bloodlines. She could trace their roots through some of the most famous and infamous names in Wizarding history all the way up to the legendary House of Danu. The power of the Tuatha Dé pulsed within her collective hearts, as did being a Chosen of Fate. It made her a dangerous enemy and a powerful friend. Yet even a woman of her power needed a family.

Melania had moved beyond the hardships of her young life as Harry Potter, coming into her own when Nymphadora Tonks taught the Binary Metamorph how to be a young woman. The connection turned to love and eventual marriage but the world was not all sunshine and roses. Both the Light and Dark rebelled against House Black's leadership of the Grey.

The two sides complained for years until the first strike began a war without end. Throughout its false peaceful dawns and restarts, the end of the world started with the murder of Remus Lupin, her werewolf uncle. The world would experience the full might of Melania's rage after Dora's assassination on their five-year wedding anniversary.

The secret Light and Dark Lords behind the worst day of Melania's life delved deeper into the arcane and dangerous in order to destroy each other and their mutual enemy, forcing Melania and her family to do the very same until the world crumbled beneath their clashing wills. Harry himself had been forced to Scorched Earth part of North America in order stop a runaway horde of demonic forces. Not that he cared at that point.

He cared for very little after burying her wife and unborn child.

Her team did their best to save those they could, avenging those they couldn't. Victories came but their defeats added another loved one to the pile of dead. They fought when and where no one else would. They drove back two insane monsters and their unending supply of fanatical followers and creatures at their command. They refused to concede, refused to allow the innocent blood spilt to go unpunished. But they were never enough.

Melania's patron Goddess would come to her in a series of dreams. The protective shell Melania had built around her heart shattered at the sight of the Mother Goddess crying bloody tears. She confessed that the Earth was no more. There had been too many nuclear weapons and too much magical energy used in the insanity.

The planet was doomed.

The Goddess admitted that the world would have survived the nuclear winter currently held back by magic. It might even have survived the rupturing of reality that the two insane warlocks had caused in their final battle. But the two dangerous forces had locked themselves into an apocalyptic spiral dance, a deadly symbiotic relationship ripping the Earth apart.

The Goddess had given Melania a ritual and a place to perform, promising her small group would be able to escape the dying planet for a new dimension. The runic arrays were designed in such a way that would enable the goddess to piggy-back the journey and merge with her counterpart in their new home.

Melania sighed within her protective magical bubble. The air was lethal to anyone not mutated by the radiation and Wild Magic. She tried imagining Hogwarts was whole, that it was the home and safe haven it had once been, but its grounds were now flooded by putrid, poisonousness water that made it difficult. The supermoon was bright enough to bring out the blood that had tainted the world's rivers.

The school itself had been long gone. Dead and broken ten years before the Magical-Mundane war melted the polar ice and sent Florida hurtling free of North America.

She turned away from the first place Harry had called home. She had found what she came from and had somewhere else to be. Melania was gone between one step and the next.

The third most powerful being on the plant reappeared deep within the catacombs beneath the Almendres Cromlech menhir circle of Evora, Portugal. With the loss of Hogwarts and Stonehenge, the circle at Almendres had the highest intersection of Ley Lines available. It was a Major Lunar Standstill, the exact event the Cromlech menhir was built for, and would aid in powering the ritual.

Melania's dragonhide boots echoed through the caverns as she made her way to the sacred chamber where the last of her friends and family waited. It had been a long, hard road with an ending that promised nothing but uncertainty. Yet she still couldn't stop the swell in her breast at the thought of them being together at the very end.

The energy requirements of the ritual had been horrifying to calculate. There had been almost no chance of surviving the strain. Not until she remembered the legacy of the Potter and Black families. It was their final "Screw You" to their enemies by passing on their power the other bloodline.

Her friends were aghast at the idea of using one ritual to power another. But the theory was sound, the calculations matched, and that was all Melania needed to know. She entered the ritual cavern and her waiting friends and marvelled at their work. They had spent days covering floor to ceiling with runes, many of which Gaia had revealed to Melania. Her remaining family were already standing in their required positions, ready for the end. Each carried shrunken trunks containing everything they possessed or had managed to salvage. The Coven was determined not to be found wanting in their new lives.

The man standing at the head of the seven-pointed star had long ago lost his baby fat. Now he was a chiselled warrior forged in the fires of many battles. His short blond hair allowed his baby blue eyes to shine with the strength of character Harry had seen one long ago night when he attempted to stop a group of friends sneaking out of their common room. He and Harry were the last survivors of that quartet and the sword at his hip that had once defeated a century old basilisk had also avenged their lost friends. He was a Druid and Earth Mage, steeped in the magic and power of aeons past and known as Gryffindor. Dressed in dragonhide that had seen much use, he was Harry and Melania's best friend and brother in all but blood.

To his left and Melania's right was the man's wife. Her dirty blonde hair was down to her mid-back and she wore loose clothes that reminded all of their once Divination teacher. Her slender fingers were wrapped around what had once been the tibia of a half-giant, the brother of the man who had introduced Harry back into the magical world. Now the bone was cored with her own hair and blood, making it the perfect staff for the Seer. Her once beautiful silver eyes had long been taken in a misguided attempt by their enemies to break her ability to See, and the gaping holes were covered by a green silk cloth. Only the cursed scars from their removal were visible on her pale skin.

Those who escaped the furious duo of her best friend and future husband died a most horrible death when the woman known as Snorkack called upon the horror of the Many-Angled Ones.

Next was the younger man who went by the name Atari. The boyish enthusiasm for life and magic had all but been extinguished upon the death of his older brother. It was in the same attack that cost him his family which had also stolen his right arm. He had been accepted beneath the wings of the Weasley twins and their teachings sent him to American. He returned a Master Technomancer, the project for his Mastery was the prototype techno-magical arm he had created to replace his lost one. The strange metallic limb did nothing to take away from his handsome features. He was their builder and designer of all things needed to live and destroy.

Melania walked between the two who stood at the bottom of the seven points and the woman on Melania's right returned Gryffindor's hard gaze with one of her own. Known as War to their enemies, the blonde haired, icy blue-eyed woman's loyalty to Melania fell completely into the realm of obsession. War was Melania's bodyguard, Harry's lover, and protégé to both. She had been driven mad at what was done to her family and it was only the complete acceptance by her leader that kept War from ending it all.

The other spot held another silvery blonde. Far curvier than the other women, the woman known as Flower had taken her name in honour of her elder sister who had died in defence of their Veela colony. A Master Healer, Flower had been the one to keep them all alive at some point but her blue eyes held fragility. It was a weakness that the rest of the strange Coven had managed to bury behind blank masks.

Facing across from Atari was the other male in their eclectic group. Pestilence, for where he goes his enemies fall to their deaths, was a Master Assassin, Shadow Mage and a borderline psychopath held in check by his leader's iron will. The Italian wizard with brown eyes and short brown hair was a seducer of both men and women while his laughter was known to echo long after his dance of death had brought down armies.

And if Melania was known simply as Death then the last of the group was Famine. The curvy redhead was capable of leeching the very life out of anyone she wished. Upon the death of her aunt, Famine took up the mantle of her House and became a true Mistress of the Necromantic and Black Arts, wielding powers and spells that had even shaken the Dark Lord. It was only by her hand that the demonic forces called up by their enemy had been defeated.

Melania stopped in the centre of the configuration where a table sat ready. It was a perfectly square table in the exact centre of the room with everything else designed around its positioning. On it sat items straight out of myth.

The Elder Wand, the Death Stick, sat on the north end of the table, pointing east to west. The second Deathly Hallow, the Resurrection Stone, was at the south side of the table. The third Hallow hung from Melania's shoulders, creating a connection between the Mistress of Death and Death's gifts. It had been a long time since she had needed to use the objects, their power being absorbed by her core the longer she held the mantle of Death's Mistress. Now it was time to give them back to their maker.

The Potter Book, given to Gwydion fab Don's first true disciple, had been bled upon by untold generations. Within its pages contained the true depths of the Peverell and Potter magic, including the very methods that had forged the Hallows. On the other side of the bowl was an item equally as deadly. The Black Knife, given to Gwydion fab Don's second true disciple, had absorbed and shared the power and fighting skills of all those it had tested. The two had been separated since their creation and Melania was about to combine them for one last hurrah.

There was a shift in the air above Melania's shoulder and a raven appeared from nowhere. Muninn, once known as the owl Hedwig, was with her bonded right until the end.

"It has been a pleasure to know you all," she told her last living friends and family. The Coven had bled, killed and almost died for each other and none would back out now. "We did our best when those who could have stopped the insanity did nothing. If this fails to work then I can think of no other place I would rather be in my last moments. I love you all."

The Coven wasn't given a chance to reply before she picked up the Black Knife but they all knew how the others felt. Some stood taller, the simple words giving them a sense of peace that had been missing for years.

"I, Lady Black of House Black, this day and this time, do call upon the Ties that Bind," her voice vibrated in the very bedrock and all across the world, the last dregs of life paused in what they were doing. "I offer my blood and magic to my brother House. As House Black falls so shall our enemies!"

She barely looked at the blade sliced open the palm of her left hand to bleed down upon the open pages of the Potter Book. Her magic healed the wound as the book began to glow.

There was a slight shift and Melania's body rippled until it morphed into that of Harry Potter. Where Melania looked like a Warrior Queen, still regal no matter the death and destruction she had seen, Harry was nothing more than a primal force of nature, an unstoppable killing machine against those who preyed on the weak. Gone was the lost boy living in Privet Drive. He was a Death-Bringer to those who caused pain and suffering.

He swapped the Knife into his other hand and looked at the ceiling once more, his voice a deeper echo of his other identity.

"I, Lord Potter of House Potter, this day and this time, do call upon the Ties that Bind. I receive the blood and magic of my brother House. As House Black falls so shall our enemies!"

Another slash and this time Harry Potter's blood poured onto the pages. The results were almost instantaneous. The pages ripped open to reveal pure, undiluted Wild Magic.

The idea of the fail-safe was as simple as it was deadly. In the event that the two Houses were falling against overwhelming odds, the Head of one could hand the power of their House to the Head of the other. A true merger of magic to give the remaining House the power and skills required to take their enemies with them to the grave.

Before the ritual could get going, Harry swapped the Knife into his bloody hand and called out the words Melania had used, offering the Potter blood and magic to the Blacks. A second shift and Melania was barely able to accept the gift with her own blood before the book exploded.

She had managed to do the impossible. She had managed to provide an offering of blood and sacrifice twice over before the ritual could close. That was her last thought before her world became nothing but pain. Where once two lives had lived within one body, there were now two people standing back to back. Harry and Melania cried out in pain, their arms outstretched, only for their screams to cut off, the lack of oxygen in their lungs keeping them silent. Each had a bird on their shoulder that was as caught up in the ritual as their human.

The magic expanded to wrap around each of those at the star's points to consume them within the raw power released in the feedback loop. The Black Knife had absorbed the skills and knowledge of all those who tested themselves on its edge and continued to draw it from them until their deaths. Harry was now living through the lives of all the Blacks, the Le Feys, Ravenclaws, and beyond who had offered their blood to the sharp edge. The ritual grafting those instincts and powers into his soul without affecting what made him the man he was. The Potter Book had done the same and Melania was under similar torture, absorbing the creative knowledge and skills of the Potters, Peverells, Slytherins, and beyond, without affecting the core of her personality.

The ritual was the last Fuck You to their enemies but was not designed for the jury-rigged addition. Harry and Melania were still only one mind, one soul, and each body's new experience caused the magic in the cave to increase ten-fold. The runes in the walls blazed with the light of the sun but none there could tell. The entire world of all ten beings had been reduced to nothing more than agony on the atomic level.

High above the Earth, the moon began to glow, the cold rock burning with magical flames. The power shone down on the planet below and ignited the pure magical forces that made up the Ley Lines. Probabilities and reality broke down as things that could not be alive lived, only to burn to ash, while that which lived crumbled into nothingness as they ceased to be.

The ritual was far more powerful than those involved had expected. It was Gaia herself rather than the smaller aspect Danu who was pulled into the cave. It was Gaia herself that appeared on the opposite side of the ritual table. The sea-green eyes stared down at the blood boiled and twisted on the book. The blood moved of its own accord, splitting in half as it crawled out of the Potter Book and across the table until the crimson liquid covered both Wand and Stone.

The offerings were the last stage of the ritual. The moon blazed, a shining beacon seen across the universe. It began to descend, drawn down to its host planet as Portugal erupted in a pulse of magic that destroyed half of Europe. The Earth's seas boiled as tectonic plates cracked beneath the energy the Ley Lines put them under. The planet collapsed under the moon's impact, its structural integrity worthless from the magical stresses, and the resulting explosion ripped through the solar system. There would be nothing left but a dark, dangerous part of space, forever uninhabitable aside from the powerful black born where one small marble of a world had once been.

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 _1st May (Beltane) 2008 – Another reality, Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters, Westchester, New York_

The Xavier Mansion and its huge expanse of land had been in the Xavier family for ten generations. The family fortune was enough to keep its current owner more than comfortable for the rest of his life without being a drain on the land. Yet the genius that was Professor Charles Francis Xavier was hard at work as the early sun began to seep through his office windows. In point of fact, he had yet to be to bed.

Professor Xavier was the Headmaster of his School for Gifted Youngsters. It was an idea born after his days working with a CIA team in the sixties. Xavier was a mutant, someone who possessed unique abilities that activated sometime after birth, and his school focused on finding young adults to teach them how to harness and control their abilities.

Xavier's mutant ability meant he was one of the most powerful telepaths on the planet. But even in his youth, he knew that wouldn't be enough to shape the world's attitude. Charles Xavier had a dream, a dream of peaceful coexistence between what he called Homo superior and Homo sapiens. And so he had brought together a small group of mutant teenagers together to turn them into a group ready and willing to fight for peace between the two species. Over the course of the past five years, his X-Men had been working towards this goal when disaster struck. They had almost died at the whim of an island that had somehow achieved a basic sentience.

Scott Summers, codename Cyclops, had been the only member of his X-Men to escape. The two had to recruit more mutants in order to rescue those Xavier considered _his_ children. And therein lay the problem. These new mutants weren't teenagers who had gone to his school and learned about his ideas. Instead, they were adults in their own right with their own views on how the world did and should work. Now the Xavier mansion was home to thirteen mutants and their unique personalities were clashing as they recovered from the mission.

"Working all night is no way to live, Professor," a soft voice from the doorway caught Xavier's attention. He was smiling even before he lifted his head to look at the speaker.

Xavier's paralysis from the waist down had not resulted in the loss of his athletic build. Some even saw his baldness as appealing. One who had never considered him in that light was Jean Grey. Standing, or in this case leaning, against the door-frame at five foot six, with vibrant red hair that hung in waves to the middle of her back. She looked at her mentor with light green eyes filled with concern. She was wearing tight black trousers and an open-necked pale shirt that hugged her firm breasts. She had the body of someone who constantly worked out with the curves to turn heads of both sexes.

"It's the never-ending curse of being a workaholic, Jean," he answered in his low, baritone way. "You haven't slept either."

"Not a wink," she confessed, using her hip to push herself away from the wall and into the room. Xavier watched her coming with worry. Jean Grey was both a powerful telekinetic and telepath and the one weakness of psionics was their mental health. An emotional and tired Jean was a dangerous one.

"I monitored your confrontation with Wolverine. I'm very proud of how you dealt with him and Warren," he gave a quick smile that faded just as fast. Warren Worthing III, codenamed Angel, was one of his original X-Men and had seen the older, newer, and far more dangerous member of the team talking to Jean in the shadow of a tree. The youngest X-Man had reacted badly, something which the ever-volatile Wolverine had instantly responded to. It was only luck that blood hadn't been spilt over the lady's honour. "I know Wolverine has rough edges – he may very well prove the most difficult and dangerous student I've ever taught – but I believe the reward is worth the risk. Given enough time, and care, he has the potential to become a keystone of the team."

"I'm glad, Professor, I really do hope he works out," Jean paused as she settled on the edge of his desk to stare out of the large windows behind him. Her arms had crossed in a protective manner. "But I won't be here to watch it happen."

"The conflict between you all strikes so deeply?" Xavier leaned back in his chair to look at one of his favourite students. He was completely surprised by her words, never expecting her to be so easily defeated by the clash between the old and new members.

"Oh, Professor, you have no idea," she laughed and it was a humourless sound that caused him to frown. "I thought the patterns of my life were properly ordered but they've been smashed to bits. And one look from Wolverine crushes those pieces to dust."

She stood, restless in the body as she was in heart and mind, and moved to the window. She could see a clear reflection of herself on the smooth surface and realised she didn't recognise the woman staring back.

"I love Scott with all my heart even as I can't deny the attraction between me and Wolverine," she sighed, closing her eyes to look inside of herself. _Scott is my constant, the one who has been there by my side from the beginning. Yet his identity is so wrapped up with being part of the X-Men I don't always know where I fit in. Wolverine offers me freedom, a wild man to take me away from here, yet there's no sign of anything more beyond that._ She opened her eyes to stare into the brightening sky. "But that is only part of the issue. I've nearly died so many times since you formed the X-Men. Yet tonight I found myself wondering why I keep coming back for more. What of _my_ dreams and plans? For love or a family? Are they to be sacrificed on this altar of responsibility that is being an X-Man?"

"Is that what you truly believe?" A shocked look passed across Xavier's face at her questions. He could admit to himself that such things had never entered his thinking when balanced against his dream of a peaceful future. "Have I failed you so utterly, Jean?"

"I don't know, Professor," she admitted, pressing a palm against the still cool window. A single tear fell but she didn't see it in her reflection, her eyes lost elsewhere. "There's a whole world out there, a world to explore that knows nothing about aliens, mutants, or super-villains. This was once my home but now I feel trapped, bound here with the others. How can humanity come to trust us, Professor, if we forever hide behind these walls? If we're afraid to go out there and discover if we can make it on our own?"

"It can't," he confessed after a long, heavy silence. She heard him sigh and didn't need her own telepathy to know that her mentor was struggling with her revelation. "And I would be no better than Magneto if I kept you from those dreams, from this need."

He turned his wheelchair around to face Jean and took the closest hand in his. She turned away from the new day to stare down at him with a timid half-smile.

"I wish you well," he said, his throat tight with emotion as he realised this was a goodbye. At least for now. "And there will always be a place here, should you need it. Don't hesitate to..."

"I know," she smiled, _truly_ knowing that she could return if she needed. The two shared a moment of understanding only for it to be broken by the alarm of Xavier's Mutant scanning machine, Cerebra. Jean looked up as though able to see the threat the fantastic machine was picking up and felt a pull coming from somewhere. Something deep inside her warmed, feeling like the sun had risen on her soul for the first time in years, and she had to fight her smile from growing.

"Once more unto the breach," she whispered, looking back to her mentor. "How about one more suit up for the road?"

Xavier was about to comment when the astral plane blazed with power the likes of which he had never experienced. The raw energy caused both telepaths to cry out in agony before their minds shut down from the pain.

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OoOoO

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The Xavier Mansion wasn't the only place to have alarms sounding. Across the world, people and machines reacted as a powerful surge of energy echoed through the dimensions. In San Francisco, California, the second Baxter Building was home to the Fantastic Four, a family who had greatness thrust upon them and decided to stand up and make a difference. Their leader, Reed Richards, was one of the very top geniuses in the world yet even he could only watch in despair at what his instruments were telling him. The scientist had spent the past year researching the dimension known as the Negative Zone, a dimension that was now coming apart on a fundamental level.

Elsewhere, men, women, and beings that might have been both or neither were reacting to the death of an entire dimension and the incoming echoes of a traveller of immense power. Psychics across the universe collapsed under the weight of power that flooded the astral plane while beings described as gods and demons stirred in unease as the playing field was forever changed.

Future friends and enemies narrowed eyes and began preparations to meet this new power that had shaken the very Omniverse. One such was a vast man who almost reached seven foot. His long white hair hung loose, framing a single sky-blue eye that saw much more than most could be understood by mortal minds. His strong fingers tightened on the hilt of the spear Gungnir and the air thickened with his emotions. Rage was tinted with fear as the Nordic All-Father stood and stormed out of his hall to hunt down the one known as the Watcher of Worlds.

"I feel you, Darkest Star," Odin's deep voice echoed in the undercurrent of the universe as his subjects quickly moved out of his way. "I will find you and I will kill you as I once swore to do."

The Sky-Father would find it wasn't that easy and that Heimdall's vision had been temporarily by the power of an Elder God.

The universe itself rippled and twisted, rewriting personal histories as people blinked into existence who were never meant to be while others faded or even fused with others to make completely new lives. To the sheer _other_ being that watched the Omniverse, and by whose authority allowed such a massive shift in Reality, its four faces watched as the six-hundred and sixteenth born reality duplicated itself in the same way a cell divided. Another, far larger numbered reality did the same, and the two new realities then merged. This merging pulled together fragments from others to birth a brand new reality. When it was all over with, the Living Tribunal nodded as though pleased with its work.

One of the only other beings in existence that knew of the cause of the chaos stood in a place that wasn't a place. A place outside of time or any other pesky mortal restraints. It was a concept that wrapped itself within the image of a beautiful if pale, woman covered in intricate markings. A shimmering cloak kept most of her body covered and moved as though it had a life of its own, sometimes even turning its owner invisible. The Cosmic Entity known as Death turned towards the oncoming storm and smiled. She spoke only three words but those words caused all the spirits within her Realm to cower in fear.

" _Welcome, my Champion._ "

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 _A cave deep beneath the Almendres Cromlech of Evora, Portugal_

Doctor Stephen Strange, Sorcerer Supreme and Master of the Mystic Arts, stood a little over 6'2 and possessed the body of someone highly skilled in martial arts. He appeared within the cave and was almost immediately blinded by the blazing power emanating from the walls. Strange waved a hand in front of his eyes and they glowed, mystical powers changing them to filter out the painful energies.

"What are you doing here, Sorcerer?" a terse and very feminine voice demanded. Strange felt a quick clenching of his heart when he recognised it.

"Gaea," Stephen Strange turned to look at the being. She was in a deep green dress that had a plunging neckline to almost where her belly button would be. If she had one as such things did not belong on a being that had never been born. The dress brushed her slender ankles with wide slits up the side that revealed shapely legs. The dark hair fell down her front, framing the large décolletage rather than hiding it. Yet for all the being's beauty, it was the eyes that held Strange. They were the eyes of the very first being that had appeared from the Primordial Chaos of the universe. And Stephen _really_ didn't want to have to fight her. "What's going on?"

The Elder Gods had once been hunted, chased out of this dimension and into ones of their own making. They then spread their awarenesses and powers across time, space and all of Reality. In some way, this weakened them as much as it did show their immense power. Gaea had no such issues. She was the very essence of the planet upon which Strange stood and was more than capable of drawing from the spiritual energy of every living thing on Earth.

She waved a hand and the intense power of the cave condensed into a large rip in the fabric of the world. The ring of energy crackled with Eldritch flame and the air rippled within the circle. Strange realised he was looking into the Negative Zone. His eyebrows rose at what he was seeing. _Something_ was emerging from the Crossroads of Reality deep within the dimension and was heading towards their world. Its very presence destabilising the structural integrity of the Negative Zone.

"What is it that comes?"

"A Childe of mine," the words were spoken softly but the entire cave echoed with their impact. "A Fate-touched Childe that will change everything."

"I must ask, for what purpose?" Strange was polite but firm, mentally preparing himself for going up against the Elder God if she was looking to bring destruction to what he had given an oath to protect.

Gaea didn't reply. The speck had been rapidly closing and Strange saw it was a body floating on its back. Walking beside the still form was a woman who could have been Gaea's sister, such was their familiar auras. This other Gaea stopped at the gateway's opening while the Negative Zone vanished as though never existing in the first place. What remained was the vast nothingness between realities. Strange knew there were things that lived in that void and hoped none joined the part.

"Stephen Strange, protector against the Darkness," Gaia smiled. She placed a protective palm on the floating body that he could see was another woman. The body had a mass of black lying across her chest that he couldn't identify. "Meet _my_ protector against the Darkness."

And like that Doctor Strange realised what was happening. The Elder Gods who had fled this reality did so in a way that meant they were the same Elder Gods across the whole Omniverse. But with Gaea limiting herself to a single planet, she had left all the other versions of Earth open to alternative versions of herself.

"And the Sorcerer Supreme understands," his version of Gaea announce, Her smirk that did nothing to calm his rapidly beating heart. The other goddess stepped closer until the two stood side-by-side. The sleeping woman slowly lowering to the ground as though an afterthought.

"You are a champion, a Defender," the other declared with a deceptively soft voice. "But sometimes that isn't enough. Sometimes a world needs something more."

"What does it need?" Stephen asked, already afraid of the answer.

"A Warrior!" The mirror goddesses declared, raising their right arms with the palms open.

There was a flash and Strange found himself back inside his New York Sanctum Sanctorum. The former surgeon took stock of his options and decided to wait and see what the Elder Goddesses had planned.

Back in the cave, the two versions of the same deity looked at each other and stepped closer until they stood in the same space. Gaia slipping inside Gaea until the two became one. The Ley Lines, the very veins of life for the planet, pulsed wildly at the vast amounts of new power surging through them as Gaea knelt down to wake her chosen.

The gentle touch placed palm over Melania's heart while allowing for Gaea's thumb to rest against the sleeping black bird on her chest. A sudden build-up of power had the cave carved with the very same runes that the Coven had carved in their old dimension. The seven-pointed star spread out from beneath the sleeping woman. At the tips ghosted into existence, the still bodies of the other travellers and then Gaea's hand pulsed, sending energy into the body of Melania and through her out to the other seven. The Elder God stood and took a step back as the Coven began to wake.

There was a ruffle of feathers as Muninn open her eyes and tried pushing the sleep from her avian mind. The familiar bond opened between witch and raven and pulled Melania from the realm of dreams.

"It worked," she croaked with a damaged throat.

"Better than you had hoped, Childe," Gaea smiled. The Goddess' fingers itching to run through Melania's dark hair as the witch forced herself to stand. Melania sore muscles felt as though they had gone ten rounds with Riddle's Crucio from Fourth Year. By the looks of the others, it appeared they weren't in a better state. "Your appearance in this world made quite a noise and will draw attention. Best to be going home to prepare."

"Home?" Melania snorted, working the kinks out of her sore neck. Muninn was already in her usual spot on her left shoulder. The others were silent, allowing their leader to direct how the strange meeting would go. "We don't have a home."

"You know where it is, Childe," and suddenly they did. Information for not only where they were to go but what they should do as well as other important information about their new world was in all of their minds. "Until next we meet."

Gaea vanished as though she had never been. The Coven shared half-amused looks and nodded their heads as one. The cavern was filled with the pops of Apparition and then it too faded from existence, never again to be accessed by mortals.

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OoOoO

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 _Somewhere in Scotland_

The group found themselves standing in front of a small castle on a far too familiar piece of land. Far too old eyes glanced around the grounds of what had never been Hogwarts and each felt the tingle of magic beyond simple the intercrossing Ley Lines beneath their feet.

"Wards," Neville Longbottom announced as he eyed the building and its magic. "Blood wards keyed to a specific family, insanity wards to drive anyone not of the blood out of the castle or so insane it wouldn't matter."

"The ground is waiting," Daphne Greengrass through in her thoughts as scanned the area. There was a large lake off to the side that was missing a giant squid and there was even a forest behind them. "There is more magic waiting for the blood to awaken."

"Black blood," Luna Longbottom nee Lovegood announced and all turned to look at her. She stood serenely with her hands clasped around Gwamp's bone and there was a smile of happiness that had been missing from the lithe woman for years. "Claim the land, sister, and give us a home."

Melania blinked at her sister's words but that was the extent of her physical reaction to what she had heard. They had all grown to understand that sometimes it was best to follow Luna's instructions first and ask questions later.

"So, are we going to ignore how we're all now decades younger than we were before the ritual?" Susan Bones asked in a tone that said she wasn't complaining about either account. The chorus of 'yes' that followed had everyone return to the immediate issue.

The group spread out in a protective circle with Luna in the middle and Melania striding alone and head tall to where she could feel the edge of the ward line. The Black Knife materialised in her grasp and she sliced open her palm, noticing that the wounds from the ritual had healed without a scar. She pressed the bleeding wound to the wards and spoke in a clear voice. She used the words from their old world and hoped they would be enough.

"I am Melania Cassiopeia Lilith Black, Lady Black of House Black, and I claim these lands in the name of my blood."

The blood wards rippled beneath her touch and centuries-old magics stirred beneath her feet. The protection wards expanded, fuelled by the Ley Lines, and the wards hidden deep beneath the castle activated in joy.

The effects of claiming the castle would be felt in the nearest small village and would bring excitement to those sensitive enough to know what it meant. The echoes would spread across the world to cause all those already studying the effects of the Coven's entrance into that reality to worry what else was happening.

The small group of survivors stood and waited for an attack to appear as was their usual luck. All bar Luna who skipped her way past Melania with a giggle that reminded her sister and husband of their teenage years.

"Well, I think that went well," Blaise Zabini snarked. Just like that, the tension in their bodies vanished.

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OoOoO

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The Coven had no idea that the wards around the castle were similar to the Muggle-Repelling wards of Hogwarts. The beautiful, if abandoned, castle was still in working order with no sign of whether or age damage anywhere, unlike what anyone previously would have seen. The group worked as one to move through each room at a time, cataloguing anything of interest while still being alert to dangers. The more they saw, the more it was looking as though it could have been a Manor for one of the Noble and Most Ancient Houses. This image was never more blatant than when they found the Master's study and the family journals within.

It only took a few hours with everyone reading that the history of their new world's Black family came clear. They possessed knowledge of the new world, including knowing that magic was still possible and the growing "mutant problem" that Luna called a gift from Gaea, but lacked specifics. It was shocking to see the similarities between this family and Melania's original one.

"So let's see if we have this straight," the woman in question announced into the silence as she stared down at a number of journals opened to important entries. "In our reality, Lord Danu created two Brother-Lines that would ultimately become the Potters and Blacks via Slytherin, Le Fey and Peverell. In this reality, there were _four_ Brother-Lines who were all Apprentices of Loki, the literal Asgardian God of Magic, Mischief as well as Fire and/or Ice. All was going well until the Norns – bitches – decided to give a Prophecy beyond the Ragnarök foretelling the coming of the Darkest Star, although no actual description of this prophecy is listed."

"Melania means 'dark', Cassiopeia is a constellation in the Northing sky, Lilith means 'of the night' and your last name is Black," Susan said the words that no one wanted to. "You are _literally_ the Darkest Star."

Melania snarled and spat out a curse in Parseltongue before continuing.

"The Asgardians, and I still can't believe I'm saying that," she said, shaking her head. Some of the others shared her surprise. "Were hunky dory with wand users until this prophecy. Suddenly entire communities are disappearing off the map until only the four lines are left standing."

"A good strategy," Blaise interrupted in his soft, smooth voice that hid the monster beneath. "Remove allies and escape roots before taking out the real target."

The room was filled with a round of nods. It was a strategy they had both suffered from and committed onto others.

"Three of the four lines give up their magic while all four tied themselves to the Land and the Fae. Luna?"

"They would become protectors of the Little Fae in the same way the Lovegoods were," the dirty blonde explained, looking at Melania even without her eyes. "Their lands would be safe havens, their magic turned inward and becoming benign. Healers, carers, maybe even mutations if the lines are still active. The Fae would feel safe with them."

"They became the Shield while the Blacks became the Sword," Melania nodded. She knew this was almost exactly what had happened with the Potters and Blacks of their old home. "And whatever hunters the _All-father_ sent to hunt the lines seemed to be only able to follow the magic. According to the later entries, it was only the Blacks who were still being killed off before the last decided to vanish underground."

The venom she used when speaking Odin's title was something they had only heard directed at either Dumbledore or Voldemort.

"Which means we already have an enemy," Gabrielle Delacour said. Her words held not a hint of French accent to suggest her homeland. "And it is a _god._ "

"But we also have an ally. Well two, really," Dennis Creevey spoke up. His sharp mind was already running through the information provided. Everyone looked at him in surprise. "And that's not including any of the other families if they're still alive, or those we make now we're here. This entire genocide was aimed at someone who came from Loki's Apprenticeship. If the myths are true, then right now Loki has had at least four of his children taken from him by Odin's desire to stop Ragnarök and this would be another attack on him."

"Four?" Neville frowned, not knowing any Norse mythology.

"Five," Dennis corrected, his voice never changing as he patiently explained. "Fenris Wolf would be chained up somewhere, the World Serpent was just discarded in a body of water, and Hel is forced to be the Norse goddess of Death. It's believed some Asgardians turned one of his human-looking twins into a feral wolf in order to kill the other. It's unknown what happened to that one though. And then there's Sleipnir who is forced to act as Odin's personal steed."

"Merlin," Susan whispered, pale at the thought of a parent being forced to see their children treated in such a way.

"Exactly," he nodded before turning back to Melania. "And then there are the ties between the four families and the Crown. I don't know what could be done there but we saw the benefits of that in our world."

Melania thought everything over and the others let her. They knew their leader would do what was best for them all. It had been many years since they had to worry about any self-sacrificing People Saving Thing being an issue.

"We can't do anything about the one-eyed giant," she announced. Her laurel eyes shining the same Avada colour as Harry's. "What we _can_ do is make something of this new world and actually make a place for ourselves in it. This is our chance to find some small piece of happiness and calm after everything we've been through. I for one am I'm not about to let a stuck up panicking god ruin that for any of us."

She spoke with such determination and power that everyone in the room knew Melania would do her very best to give them something they had believed was beyond them.

A home.

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oOoOo

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Melania left the Coven to set up their rooms and stock the larder with food from their trunks. While the castle had been cared for by the magical protections, it was still centuries out of date and lacked any semblance of modern amenities. It was the latter that was driving poor Dennis crazy.

She had decided to visit the local village the family journals said was raised to protect the lands and had to fight down the tears when she saw how similar it was to a mundane Hogsmeade. There was even a pub where the Three Broomsticks would have been and Melania headed straight for it.

"Welcome to Arrochar Arms, lass," the barman announced as soon as she walked through the doors. The smile didn't reach his eyes but she saw something that looked like hope in their depths. "We don't be getting many non-local folk 'round 'ere."

"Arrochar?" She blinked, barely aware that the locals were watching her with undisguised interest, unease and eagerness. _Could they know what I did?_ She wondered.

"Well it be better to yer ears tan An Tairbeart lar," one of the customers grumbled and Melania had to admit he was right. She didn't even know if she could grunt whatever it was the man had just said.

"Right, yeah," she said, shaking her head as though to clear cobwebs. "So, I'm trying to find information about my birth family."

"Oh?" The barman's friendly mask disappeared and the emotions shut down so fast a Slytherin would have been proud to call him one of their own. "An what be de name of yer family, lass? And what yer name be, as we at it?"

"Melania Cassiopeia Lilith Black, birth daughter to Sirius Orion Black and Lily Jasmine Evans, adopted daughter to James Charlus Potter. I'm looking for anything about the Blacks that I can."

The silence that followed the run of names was charged and she mentally winced. Such formal, High Magical Society self-introductions were overly wordy and pompous. Some of the locals became closed off and suspicious while others shifted as though preparing to move towards her. The barman, the obvious spokesman to the village locals, spoke up after wetting his lips and taking a few hard swallows.

"Black ye sey? Well, there's not been a true Dubh here since before the MacFarlanes."

"Another one lookin' for the MacDubh legacy," growled another of the locals. Melania narrowed her eyes and made to take a step towards the man only to pull herself back at the last moment. The shift did not go unnoticed.

"Yer be understandin' like, lass," the barman spoke up before her temper got the best of her. The man wasn't in tune with the lands the way his wife was but she had been excited like a kitten for the past few hours, even going so far as to say that their people had come home. "But the legacy of the MacDubh be the very foundation of our home. We don't be speakin' it to strangers."

Melania knew this. She'd seen people like this all over the world. They were people who protected their own no matter what, but she also knew something that would help.

"I have fought and I have conquered..." she began what she had come to know as this world's version of the Black and Potter combined motto _Toujours pur et Toujours debout_.

"For I have been pure to my blood..." The barman immediately responded, the words coming before he realised he was speaking them.

"...and taken the blows..."

"..to remain standing," he finished. The attitude of the locals had changed with each line and the entire pub roared with delight at his next words. "Yer a lass of the Byrnes!"

What followed was an evening that eased the aching in Melania's soul. It felt as though the entire village ended up hearing that a true descendant of their patron family had come back. All were happy and freely offering advice. Samuel the Barman had his wife, cook the entire Coven a small meal once it was known that Melania had friends up at the castle.

The group of friends felt something shift within them at the welcoming and knew they had found something special. It was only the beginning and would take time, but it was the beginning of their healing process.

The watching Elder Goddess and embodiment of Death both smiled as they watched the small village come alive in a way it hadn't for centuries. While others began planning on involving the Coven in yet more struggles.

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OoOoO

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 **SN: Last Edited 24th Nov 2017**


	2. Illumination Requested

**AN:** **For** **those who enjoy HP/Marvel Crossovers, I suggest** **shinebrightnetwork's** **"This Gonna Be Good." You won't be disappointed at all. It has Fem!HarryxWeasley Twins, time-travel, Deadpool insanity, and a** **kick-ass** **fight scene between Harri and Odin!**

 **A few people have made comments about this story not being true to canon. They haven't explained whether that's HP, Marvel or Norse mythology canon, nor what it is they didn't like. If my previous chapter's description about realities combining together didn't make it obvious, this is an AU!**

 **A guest reviewer thought Harry/Mel should be bisexual in both forms. I can't disagree strongly enough but an author's note isn't the platform for a gender/sexuality discussion.**

 **And once again, I own nothing but my original spin on the characters. If you enjoy that then leave a tip in the patre0n account.**

 **IMPORTANT: To any Scottish readers, especially those of the Clan MacFarlane/Byrne persuasion, I humbly hope you don't take** **offence** **and that I do the country and Clans right in this story. The** **Black family** **from this Marvel-AU replaces both of these and I do so with the greatest of respects to the Clans' history and to the people of Arrochar.**

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Illumination Requested

 _3_ _rd_ _May 2008 – New York Sanctum Sanctorum_

It had been a little over thirty hours since Sorcerer Supreme felt reality rearranged to accept a visitor from another world. A little over thirty hours since he faced down an Elder Goddess and her parallel copy and they declared the visitor as their chosen warrior. They denied him the chance to assess the potential threat to his Earth, and Doctor Stephen Strange, even with his four centuries of life, was still a man who did not appreciate being told no.

He had spent those hours setting up a ritual allowing him to go over the head of the Elder Goddess. Strange was looking to gain cosmic aid by speaking to a being whose sole purpose was the protection of the multiverse. His younger self might be running around being a genius neurosurgeon, but he was a genius mystic defender of Earth's Realm. He was sure the Living Tribunal would be on his side.

Esoteric symbols covered the hard wooden floor and coloured candles formed a six-pointed star. The Cloak of Levitation hovered by the door with its large collar turned in disappointment. Strange knew it didn't agree with his actions but then, he was the Sorcerer Supreme and it was only a mystical relic.

The Cloak rippled as though picking up his thoughts but Strange continued to ignore it. He sat full-lotus and threw his mind and magic out into the cosmos to reach the ultimate Judge.

There was a brief cosmic moment when his astral form made contact with the Living Tribunal's realm. The next saw Strange's awareness pulled hard in another direction. Something had taken over his ritual, something powerful and dangerous. He had no control over the energies that made up the universe blazed around his spiritual self. He saw lights in colours that had no mortal names. Non-human dreams created patterns in the colours. Shapes and designs that promised knowledge or the answers to hidden desires. More lights created shadows that promised nothing but pain.

Strange cried out and buried his face in his arms to protect his mind from burning out. He instinctively threw up a mystical protective barrier around him in case of an attack.

None came. Instead, the intense energies receded and he was able to lift his head up to find himself in a copy of his attic. The facsimile was bare, lacking his mystical paraphernalia. The only solid part of the room was the circle within his barrier. The air beyond his shield was hazy and unfinished while shadows moved in his peripheral vision when there was nothing to make them.

" _He wishes to question,"_ a voice spoke from the shadows and Stephen Strange frowned. It was familiar to him yet his eidetic memory was unable to place it.

" _He questions_ _ **us,"**_ another whispered in unbridled anger, the emotion almost making the word incomprehensible. " _He can't understand, no one understands."_

It wasn't anger, Strange realised, spinning around in the hopes of seeing who was speaking. It was pure disgust.

" _I could make him understand,"_ a third promised. This voice offered everything he ever wanted if he only listened to it long enough.

" _I can make him see,"_ yet another giggled. The sound filled with unchained insanity. " _I can make him see so much more than he does."_

Doctor Stephen Strange, Sorcerer Supreme, swallowed as he realised exactly who surrounded him. They only had one word to describe them but it was enough. It was their name; it was what they were, and it was what they represented.

"Endless," he whispered into the hazy shadows. The rustling of movement he hadn't even known he was hearing stopped as he named them.

The haze retreated from around a figure and it was one he immediately recognised. She could have been any age and had short black hair and darker eyes. A silver eye of Horus marked the skin beneath the fathomless right eye. She wore a simple purple business suit with a silver ankh resting on her black blouse.

" _You remember me, Sorcerer,_ " the woman spoke in a dry, rasping voice.

"Hello, Death," he smiled. For a moment, the playboy doctor of his youth made an appearance. The secret rite of passage to become Sorcerer Supreme was to face the concept and truth of Death. The mystic had to face the unwinnable fight and accept that Death took everyone. The prize was for the entity in front of him to remove the threat of a natural death. "Fancy meeting you here."

The hazy air retreated a second time to reveal a tall man in a heavy cloak carrying a thick book chained to his wrist. The scrolls on the Endless described the book's leather as coming from an animal that had never existed. He was Destiny, a being who knew all that is, was, and would be.

" _The change was foretold,_ " the hooded man explained in a tone of finality that promised Very. Bad. Things if Strange pushed the subject. The Endless weren't embodiments of abstract concepts, they _were_ the abstract concepts. He had no delusion he could survive an attack from them all. _"Do what you are written to do, Sorcerer, and speak out to the mortal Pillars. But never again will you go beyond your realm to question this judgement._ "

"Why are you involved?" He couldn't help ask with a frown. He knew the Living Tribunal was more than willing to tell him uncomfortable truths. By the Vishanti, it had threatened to wipe the Earth from existence all because he had made a slight mistake with a creature called Zom.

Death smiled and the hazy shadows swallowed the siblings. Strange felt a sharp tug and was then thrown back into his mortal body. The impact of immaterial and material caused him to fall backwards from his meditative position and smack his head against the hard floor. He could hear the rustling of his Cloak even above his groans and sent the laughing cloth a scowl.

"I guess we go to Plan B," he grumbled.

The Cloak rolled its collars at the man's stubbornness.

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OoOoO

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 _Somewhere in Wales_

"I knew I'd see you tonight," the man announced to the shadows. He poured two sniffers before turning to face his older looking visitor. He offered a glass and gave the charming roguish smirk that had gotten him into so many troubles in his youth. That those troubles usually came in the form of angry fathers surprised no one who grew to know him. "So what can I do for the Queen's Magician?"

"I'm called a Royal Adviser now, Jack," Sir Warren Traveler scoffed. He stepped into the room to take the offered glass. The eyebrow above his false, larger, right eye rose at what he smelt. The white quartz orb glowed in the firelight. "Hennessy?"

"My own small distillery," Jack smirked, taking a fortifying sip of the cognac. "Each bottle is at least fifty years old."

Sir Warren snorted in humour and enjoyed a sip. The taste continued to roll over his tongue long after he had swallowed. "It's not as though you aren't swimming in fifty years to wait for a good drink."

Commander Jack Gwynn stepped away from the drinks cabinet and made his way over to the desk. His measured movements were completely silent. The desk was overflowing with paperwork, with some in a long dead language Sir Warren knew he wouldn't understand.

The man who was one of the four magical pillars of the British Isles sat back and took a hard measure of his friend. "Are you finally going to ask me the question?"

The look and tone took Sir Warren back and he sighed, sad at the guarded expression staring back at him.

"Jack, if I wanted to know how old you are, I would already know," he reminded his friend. He slid into the chair opposite and took another sip of the Cognac. "My eye could show me everything I ever wondered about you if I asked it to."

"That it could," Jack agreed with a ghost of a smile. "So what's the word? I had expected James to come instead of you."

"James and that boy of his are attempting to get answers from their Otherworld patrons," Sir Warren explained, with a small shake of his head that told Jack exactly what he thought of that. "I've been arguing for years how unlikely it was for the Captain Britain Corps to cover every reality."

"I always said you could never trust a Merlyn no matter what he looked like or how he spelt his name."

Sir Warren ignored the tired subject by finishing his sniffer and placing the glass on the desk. Gwynn had been a loud voice against anyone using the name of legend and it was hard to argue when two had Satanspawn and Demonspawn as their surnames.

"According to James, Roma hasn't a clue and her father is having a bit of a temper tantrum. Hunter says it's because it was without the old man's say so."

Jack sneered at the description but held his piece. Tonight was not the time to rehash his thoughts on that subject.

"Her Majesty wants to know your thoughts," there was censor in Sir William's words. A questioning to why Jack had not already given his report. "We only suspect that whoever has come into our world has caused changes to happen we can't detect. James believes it might be possible."

"James Braddock is too blinded by his history as Captain Britain," Jack snapped in frustration. He shook his head in part disgust and part exasperation at how the children were acting. "Our families had ways to monitor each other's estate in case of danger or we needed to contact them. James was stupid enough to move the actual Braddock Estate. You can't rebuild homes like ours somewhere else and expect the magic to go with the bricks. As for Cassidy, he's too busy playing the hero with his friend Xavier and running from his pain to bother with the Keep."

Sir Warren listened to his friend's rant, knowing that the important information was coming.

"The Black estate has had its magic woken up, Warren, and there's only one possible way that could have happened."

Sir Warren's eyes widened and he rose in a move that hid his age. He gave the other man a deep nod of respect for his hospitality. "That's all I needed to hear, Jack. Her Majesty has ordered a debrief tomorrow morning to discuss options."

"I'll be there," Jack promised. "And Warren, we're going to need contact soon before they get their protections too strong for a valid threat assessment. Just because they've got Byrne blood doesn't mean they're loyal to the Crown."

Sir Warren nodded his agreement and left Commander Jack Gwynn to his thoughts. Both men had plans to make.

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OoOoO

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 _4_ _th_ _May 2008 - Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division (SHIELD) Helicarrier_

The dark grey hermetic door opened for the six-foot figure to storm into one of the most secured rooms of the high-tech flying warship that was SHIELD's Helicarrier 1. Two agents followed but the cigar-chomping Colonel Nicolas J. Fury gave them no notice. He gave each face on the screen the barest of nods.

"Well, people?" He demanded in his usual no-nonsense manner. "It's been three days and I want answers last week."

No one dared roll their eyes at the Director's attitude. Some had spent decades dealing with the force of nature and were well accustomed to his manner.

"I can confirm that May 1st saw a portal open between us and the Negative Zone," said one of the two Native American Special Directors. He was Charles Little Sky, SHIELD designation Portal, a mutant inter-galactic teleporter and head of SHIELD's Alternate Reality Monitoring and Operational Response (ARMOR) division. He was also their expert in inter-dimensional travel. "At the same time, the Negative Zone went into a cascade structural failure. Someone or something came through the portal with the Negative Zone collapsing out of existence behind them. The dimension no longer exists."

"And isn't Reed Richards in a snit about _that_ ," the second Native American interrupted with a sigh. SHIELD designation Forge, real name unknown to all but Fury because he didn't believe in not knowing, and the co-Special Director of the revamped Special Strategic Reserve (SSR) Division. "You'd think that someone had killed his Schrödinger's puppy with how he won't shut up."

"Little Sky," Fury growled before Forge could go on a rant about their latest SSR recruit. Forge's mutant ability meant he didn't need to understand how something worked before being able to invent it. This clashed with the engineering, and everything else, genius of Reed Richards. It was the age-old battle between instinct and knowledge. "Are you telling me that this entity destroyed an entire dimension?"

"No, sir, I'm telling you it destroyed _two_ entire dimensions as well as changed our own."

"Explain."

"That's us, Director," the heavily tattooed African-America Pandora Peters said. She was the head of SHIELD's Wizardry, Alchemy and Necromancy Department (WAND) with an unofficial SHIELD designation of Wicked Witch of the West. Peters was a powerful witch that you prayed to never get into a game of Simon Says with. "The portal was magical in nature, sir. It brought with it a massive wave of mystical energy that we're still trying to get a handle on. I can tell you that its original reality is now completed closed off from the rest of the multiverse. No one can get in or out of it, nor can it create any new realities. For all intents and purposes, it no longer exists."

"Details, Peters," Fury snapped, his single narrowing in frustration. "I need details."

"In that case, Nick, we're up shit creek without a fucking paddle if you want to take on whoever did this," Peters fired back, her usual disrespect to authority breaking free quicker than usual. "I have half my people in fucking comas while the other half is too afraid to use their magic. Even the smallest spell becomes overpowered. We're on the tail end of a finished ritual here, Director."

"A ritual to do _what_ , exactly?"

"Completely change reality," Little Sky answered for her. There was only silence as everyone attempted to take in what they heard. "When I open up a warp and go somewhere else, I become a visitor to another reality. When people visit us, they're visitors to our reality. That's not what's happened, Director. Whoever, whatever, came through that portal has used enough power..."

"Magic," Peter interrupted, annoyed at her fellow Special Director skirting the word.

"Used enough _magic_ to not visit our reality but actually insert them into our reality. They've made themselves a fundamental part of this world the same way we all are. Their home dimension is now _this_ dimension."

"Why ain't this soundin' like a good thing?" Dum-Dum Dugan drawled out beneath his thick handlebar moustache. Special Director of SHIELD's Special Threat Assessment for Known Extra-normalities (STAKE) Division, Fury's longest and closest friend and who was now leading the newest version of the Howling Commandos.

"Because it's not, Dugan," Peters answered with a scowl. She was notorious for getting frustrated explaining magic to non-magicals. "This type of insert has sent ripples up and down the time-stream. Our world, our reality, is now not what it was before the Event. We are now a splintered off reality."

"Are you saying we aren't who we used to be?" Fury demanded, his gut twisted at the type of power that he was hearing about.

"I couldn't tell you," Peters shrugged. The few locks of her dark brown hair not tied back into a tight bun drifting across her brown eyes. "Rather, we are who we are _now_ but not who we were or might have been before. This isn't a rewrite of our original reality, Nick. This is us becoming a different reality altogether. There is no fixing this. As far as our reality cares, there's nothing _to_ fix."

"Options?"

"I hate to be a bringing of more bad news, darling," a beautiful woman spoke up from another screen. Her Italian accent held a small speck of Russian that was only noticeable if you knew it was there. The signature white streak running through the Contessa's silky black hair was well known. It had to be after all her time at red carpet events. She was the Special Director for SHIELD's Public Relations department, a skilled field agent, and sitting in for SHIELD's EuroMIND division that was having its own fires to put out. She was also Fury's sometimes lover. "But I would say our older cousins from across the Pond are in contact with whoever this is. My contacts are saying that MI-13 looks to be cutting us loose."

Valentina Allegra de Fontaine's base was Italy, partly so Fury could keep an ocean between them, and partly because her public persona was a European socialite. If anyone would hear what the British were doing first, it was her. Nicolas Fury, said to be the greatest spy in history, had only one reaction to everything he had heard.

"Well, fuck."

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.

OoOoO

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.

 _5_ _th_ _May 2008 - Sheraton Hotel conference room, New York_

A hi-tech wheelchair rolled into the conference room. There was a serene air surrounding the paralysed man as he spoke to his companion walking beside him.

"I'm only a Professor, Reed," Xavier pointed out to his brown haired friend whose greying temples providing him with his own academic air. "People might know of my published work or my mutant activism, but neither of those would answer their curiosity about me using a floating chair."

"And yet you're Tony's godfather," Richards replied. The man who tied as the smartest in the entire world gave a little frown. "That alone would answer any uncomfortable questions."

"You could be right," Xavier accepted with a slight smile. "But I like the feel of something beneath my wheels. Consider this me walking around barefoot."

"At least let me build you one that has hover technology in case you ever need it," Mister Fantastic urged. "I'll make it transformable so that you don't lose your every-man image and make sure to use something that isn't repulsor technology so Tony doesn't feel slighted."

"Very well, thank you, Reed," Xavier accepted after thinking the offer over. His chair might contain many gadgets and secrets but he couldn't deny it would be nice for an upgrade. He turned to the empty room and a wide space that had been set up prior to their arrival. "I do believe our host is about to arrive."

Yellow and red sparks popped into existence, mystical sparklers spinning in the open area. They seemed to shoot out at chest height and both men heard the tell-tale fizz of a mystical portal opening. The sparks whizzed in a circle that opened a hole in reality, expanding in size until its bottom edge scorched the carpet. Neither man saw what was on the other side of the Sling Ring created portal in the time it took for Stephen Strange to step through and have the rip in space close behind him.

"Charles, Reed, thank you for coming."

"I'm curious, Stephen," Xavier couldn't resist asking. "Is it a thrill for you that we're having this meeting in the same hotel where you're currently giving a lecture on the Palmer-Strange Technique?"

"Strange-Palmer," Stephen automatically replied, glaring when both men smirked at his correction. "Actually, no, Charles, I'm preserving the timeline. I later use this room for a little get together and make a rather crass comment about the burn mark my portal has made."

"Playing temporal games with your past self aside, why are we here, Doctor Strange?" Reed asked. His brisk manner had become far more intense since the Event that destroyed the Negative Zone.

"I'm sure I don't have to tell either of you what happened recently..."

"The Astral Plane went insane."

"Something caused the Negative Zone's Crunch to occur over the span of minutes what should have taken another five hundred million years."

Strange nodded to both their answers and took a deep breath.

"When the planet was a fresh ball of rock and fire, the Essence of Creation brought the very first beings into existence," he explained. His hands moving behind his back in an unconscious lecturing posture. It would have been funny to both men if he didn't look so worried. "These were the Elder Gods. Beings of such power that at their strongest, they dwarfed all bar the very concepts of reality. As is the truth of life, war broke out between them.

"A great force was born to curtail their evilness. It slaughtered them until only a handful of these incredible beings remained," the two men of science listened intently. It was rare for them to learn about what lied behind the curtain. "These survivors put themselves into dimensions of their own making, dimensions that became their prisons. But the power of the Elder Gods still allowed them to affect all realities. You could be in any reality, any dimension, and it would be the very same Elder God that answered your prayer. This is true for all bar Gaea."

"The Greek primordial goddess of Life who came into existence along with Eros and Chaos," Reed added, much to Charles' amusement.

"That is one of her aspects, Reed. Gaea split herself across the multiverse, merging a piece of her being into every Earth that does or will exist. Each version is independent, a lesser version of herself with their own plans and actions.

"Moving between dimensions is not usually that difficult for those with the power," he segmented and both nodded their agreement. Charles was well aware that mutants could be born with the ability to do it. Reed had years ago created a dimensional bridge and often used it at night when he couldn't sleep. "What caused the death of the Negative Zone and the violent rippling throughout the Astral Plane was a mystical ritual. A woman of magic brought herself and her version of Gaea into this world. Whoever she is has allowed Gaea to merge with her alternate self, to merge with our Gaea."

"How bad is this going to be, Stephen?" Xavier immediately asked.

"Alas. I do not know, Charles," Strange admitted with a heavy sigh. The Cloak of Levitation clenched as though offering him support. "There are very powerful beings that could have stopped this yet allowed it to happen. The role of the Sorcerer Supreme is to stop attacks from outside our dimension. This is my mission, yet these beings say this woman is no threat. They do not believe this event will upset the great Balance. And that takes it out of my purview and into yours."

"We are the three pillars of humanity," Reed announced, looking at them. "Charles is the representative of mutantkind; you represent the supernatural and mystical world, while I am of the technology and, with my ties to SHIELD, also government agencies."

"Yes, Reed," Strange agreed. "I am not saying this woman is a threat to our world. I am saying I have been refused the chance to investigate her. But between the three of us, we have resources and avenues the others don't in finding her and finding out why she is here."

Charles Xavier sat back and thought about what they were suggesting. He wanted to find the one behind the massive power he had felt. He also knew that the search would keep Jean Grey connected to the X-Men for longer. A glance at Reed also gave him another reason. His friend's fury over the death of the Negative Zone was an almost physical thing. The rage radiated out from Reed with such intensity that it was making Xavier feel sick. He hoped doing this would keep his friend from falling into its darkness.

"I agree."

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OoOoO

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.

 _Xavier Mansion, Westchester, New York_

"And that, my X-Men, is what we are looking at," Xavier finished his small briefing his mutant superhero team. "I know it isn't much but we must begin working on plans to fight mystical attacks if this woman becomes a threat. Please think over any ideas you might have in finding this woman. Scott, I would like for you to stay behind."

The large group of mutants left the office of their leader, the buzz of murmuring growing as they shared their thoughts with each other. The well-built man with messy brown hair waited for the room to clear, his eyes hidden behind specially made ruby quartz glasses that kept his optic blasts contained. Yet there was no mistaking that he was watching Jean Grey but the redhead never turned as she left the room.

"I realise that things haven't been easy for you, Scott," Xavier said, drawing his first X-Man out of his thoughts. "What with Jean leaving us and trying to integrate the new X-Men into the team."

"I'm working on it, sir," Scott admitted, sitting straighter as he addressed the man he saw as a surrogate father. "Alex and Lorna are talking about their future now they're married. Krakoa has had them wanting to seize the now as much as possible; they may even be discussing children. Bobby has also been researching degrees. He's taken a surprising interest in economics."

"A bit of a difference to his practical jokes of only a few years ago," Xavier chuckled. He allowed his second-in-command to ignore his obvious breaking heart. "I'm also not blind to the difficulty in working with people who have lived active lives, Scott. Logan with his history, regardless of how murky that is, means he has his own views on how the team should act. So too, John from being in the army, and even Storm's life of living it rough on the Savannah makes her someone used to following her own path. None of them are comfortable in a group dynamic following orders."

"Where are you going with this, Professor?"

"That it might be time for a new generation, Scott," Xavier explained with enthusiasm. "A group of New Mutants we can take in and teach how to control their powers. They will learn what it means to be a mutant and what it means to be part of the X-Men."

"Like us original five?" There was excitement in Scott's voice as he considered the plan. It struck to the very heart of what being the X-Men was for Cyclops. A group of friends who fought for what was right together, sharing the same dream as the Professor."

"Exactly," the man in question smiled. He was glad his protégé understood his reasoning. "This also means I'll be adding to your workload for the foreseeable future. I would like you to accompany me on my visits when I bring these young men and women into our fold."

"I'd be happy to, sir," Scott eagerly answered, practically vibrating in his chair. "It would be good to help those who need it."

Neither Cyclops nor the most powerful telepath in the world realised that one of the X-Men had not gone too far. The mutant known as Wolverine, a man who only knew himself as Logan, stood outside the office door with his enhanced hearing focused on the conversation inside. His frown grew more pronounced as he listened until he was fighting to keep himself from growing. He turned when he heard the scrape of a chair signalling Cyclops had risen, only to stop at the sight of a watching Jean Grey. She lifted a finger to her lips for him to keep quiet and then nudged her head towards the mansion's front door. He nodded and followed her, his mind churning over everything he had heard. His eyes also kept drifting to the sway of Jean's hips.

Jean didn't stop until they were within the trees that filled the Professor's land. She ignored where Logan's gaze had been, instead focused on maintaining a telepathic quiet zone to keep her mentor from picking out their thoughts.

"You know it's rude to eavesdrop," she said to break the silence; doing her best to ignore what his intense eyes did to her insides.

The last few days away from the mansion had allowed Jean to accept that her reaction to the wild man was a purely physical one. A sexual fire she refused to allow becoming something more. Unfortunately, the same reflection had her questioning her long-term future with Scott.

"You're one to talk, Jeanie," Logan replied in his gruff voice, pulling a cigar from the inner pocket of his leather jacket. "You were keepin' us hidden, weren't ya?"

"What do you think of what the Professor told us?" She asked, choosing to not answer the question. Logan took his time in answering.

The unique _snikt_ sound followed the release of one metal claw from between his knuckles. A practised flick of the wrist saw the head of the cigar drop to the ground and then the sharpest cutting tool in the world slipped back beneath his skin. The wound easily sealed over as though it had never been, leaving behind a smear of blood that fascinated Jean.

"They hurt every time," Logan announced, biting down hard around the cigar. The words pulled her eyes up to look into his intense blue gaze. "I say Strange is throwing his toys away because someone else played in his sandbox. We don't know enough to make any guesses until this witch appears out from whatever rock is hiding her from Cerebra. And I don't like Chuck looking to make more child soldiers because us newer X-Men ain't drinkin' the cool-aid."

"That's not fair," Jean snapped, only for Logan to smirk at the lack of passion in her words.

"How old were you when Chuck recruited you, Red? He's planning to use One-Eye to recruit kids," his arm out to point at the mansion they had come from. The anger rising over what he had heard. "Not to learn how to use their powers and go on to have happy lives but to replace us, to replace _you_. You left to have your own life, Jean, and he's already got a list of potentials to take your place on the team."

Jean Grey, the simple daughter of a history teacher, wanted to deny the accusation. Professor Xavier had helped her when her powers first manifested. He had been her personal therapist for five years before she came to Westchester. _And he locked away your telepathy;_ a loud voice reminded her. It had only been a year since he had seen to release her telepathic powers and the months since had seen her flying on waves of wild emotions trapped behind those mental barriers.

"What's your take on things, Ororo?" Logan asked, surprising Jean by looking up to where the slightly older and beautifully dark-skinned woman was hovering. Her long white hair fluttered in the gentle breeze that radiated off her.

"I think, Logan, that I am reconsidering my words," the once goddess of the Serengeti said as she lowered herself to the ground. "When Sunfire left after our first mission, the Professor asked us all if we were going to leave."

"And you said that two days was barely enough time to make that decision," Jean reminded the elegant woman. Their friendship had rapidly developed with Jean not able to think of Ororo no longer in her life. Even with their battle to have her understand the importance of wearing clothes.

"He told me that I had responsibilities, Jean," Storm continued in her gentle tone that was as soft as a summer's breeze. "I did not expect these 'responsibilities' to be hunting a woman protected by the Goddess. It goes against all that I have lived for."

"What of this other dimension?" Jean pushed. They could see that their arguments were striking deep within the redhead. "An entire universe was destroyed for her to come here."

"It is the nature of nature," Storm calmly answered. She brought up a palm to create a small rain cloud that drizzled over her hand. "If I cause it to rain in an area beset by drought then I must take it from somewhere else. If I stop a storm then I must send that power elsewhere. I have caused much damage in my desire to help others when I did not accept that this is nature's way."

"And you, Jeanie?" Logan asked the one question Jean had hoped they wouldn't. "You weren't hiding me from Charlie for shits and giggles. What d'ya really think?"

Jean Grey's silence was more of an answer than anything she could have said. Logan grunted and made to walk off only to stop when Ororo spoke again.

"Forgive me, Logan, but you are a great warrior, a wolf dominating the plains. What is it that has truly angered you, my friend?"

Logan looked over his shoulder at the exotic beauty whose scent calmed him. He held her eyes, a predator assessing prey, and the animal gaze turned to Jean. He said nothing until both women understood the seriousness of what he was about to share. They both nodded their promise of secrecy.

"Chuck would turn my little girl into a weapon and promise he was helping her as he did so. I'll kill anyone who thinks they can do that to her."

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.

OoOoO

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 _6_ _th_ _May 2008 – Coven_

The Coven had spent the last few days unwinding and relearning how to live above ground. The lack of having to fight for their constant survival was both a blessing and a shock to their minds, with the excitement of the Arrochar villagers only making the feelings stronger. Thankfully for their collective sanities, the people were quick on the uptake and allowed the Coven their needed space.

Yet they were used to being busy, even if that was only busy surviving. The need to do _something_ was beginning to override their need and desire to recover, making it a restless group sitting down for a Harry cooked meal.

The only sound in the small dining room was that of cutlery. The decades the group had spent together had long ago removed any uncomfortable silences between them. The glances each shared were enough that they knew the same subject was dominating their thoughts.

"We don't have to fight, not anymore," Neville announced after cleaning his mouth, finally speaking aloud their new reality. "We can do whatever we want."

The Coven as one put their cutlery down, picked up their drinks and leaned back in their chairs to collect their thoughts.

"We don't have to," Daphne said, carefully. Her intense gaze jumped between Neville and Harry. "But will we?"

All eyes looked towards the thoughtful Harry who had put his glass back on the table, turning it so that the candlelight caught the crystal.

"Let's be honest here," he began without looking up, talking partly to himself as well as them. "After everything we've seen and done, after the end of our world, this table still represents a major legacy of the potential good it contained."

Harry raised his Avada eyes and looked at each as he continued.

"We are Pure-blood, Half-blood, and Muggle-born. We are children of the social elite of Britain and Europe. Our legacies are of generations of politicians, children of Aurors and Spell-crafters. Some of us have been at the very bottom of our society's boot while some saw its corruption every day by the struggle of their parents, aunt or grandmother. I once sat down and stared the non-Riddle Slytherin House in the eye and even they didn't have the potential that we would if that world was still alive. So yes, Neville, we now have a chance to be something _other_ than be fighters."

"World players," Daphne immediately answered. She was a political animal as much as she was a destructive force and Harry's words were lighting that fire inherited from her father. Susan was nodding along with her own passions that weren't about death and destruction waking up. "We could reshape the world with what we have if we planned it right."

"Yes," Harry smiled at her and, for a brief moment, it was the crooked grin that had caused so many hearts to swoon. "We can be world players in politics, finances, business, and, if needed, military. The information Gaea gave us of our new home showed us exactly what this world is teetering on."

"A new genetics war," Dennis growled, his techno-magical right fist clenching at the idea of the war starting afresh.

"And we're on the ground floor before that happens," Harry promised his friend. "We're children of those who fought in a blood war and survivors of our own. We know the signs, the acts needed to stop it happening again before it gets a chance to even breathe."

"No rest for the wicked," Susan announced, repeating her aunt's favourite saying whenever her niece would ask why she was so busy. "Not when you're trying to protect the innocent."

"Exactly," Harry nodded, turning back to Neville who was listening with a thoughtful look. "I don't think we ever will find rest, brother, but we can stop children having to become the next us. And isn't that something to fight for?"

Neville had to agree but it was obvious that there was still something on his mind.

"We don't have any real identities in this world," he reminded his brother and best friend only for Harry to smirk.

"That's easy enough, Nev. You and Daphne can hit London while Susan and Dennis do a bit of American travelling. Gabrielle and Blaise do Italy, France and Spain. You all know what to do. Within six weeks we'll be buried so deep into the system that only an expert would notice anything suspicious."

The Lord Longbottom nodded his acceptance to the order, as did the others. No one questioned that Harry was still their leader. Faking identities had become a necessary skill once the larger world began hunting wizards and witches. It was too easy for governments to find them from their years off the grid while learning magic in school. It had forced falsifying a non-magical history had become a well-honed skill.

"What we need is a major moneymaker," he continued and this caught their attention. Various eyebrows rose at what he was suggesting. "We might have a crazy amount of Galleons that we could turn into cash but that would only go so far. You said we could be political and financial players but that all starts with the business side. It's a reason to get into the game that people would accept."

"He's right, Harry," Susan said, adding her thoughts. "Can you imagine Auntie's reaction if some mysterious group appeared from nowhere with a Gringotts Vault full of Galleons but no family history or reason to have the money? She'd go hunting."

"Rubbish," Luna declared, far too brightly for shooting down Harry's idea. The blonde received many glares that she smiled back at from behind her green blindfold.

"No, Lu, she's right," Harry argued. His mind coming up with different business ideas they could create. The Potters, and before them the Peverells, had been famous for inventing and improving magical products and Harry wanted to do something that honoured his family's legacy. Neville's chuckling broke through his thoughts.

"No, Harry, she means actual rubbish," the quirky girl's husband laughed. He loved how his wife continued to be able to confuse those around her. He leaned over to kiss her cheek and the quirky Seer to tilt her head at the very last moment to capture his lips with hers. There did no doubt the intense love that the couple shared in that brief kiss before Neville sat back with a grin. He wasn't going to tell the others that the two had actually talked it out between them before the dinner. "We become the country's biggest cleaner of rubbish and it would rake in the money after the initial setup costs. A rune setup would allow us to split the rubbish up. We can reuse the metals and fabrics, and I'm sure I could use the organics as a good fertiliser. Anything we don't want or need can be resold or vanished."

"That's right," Dennis proclaimed. His manic grinned reminding the group that he was a Creevey as his eyes shone with ideas. "We know how to mix metals and enchantments to make better materials than this world has. We'd corner the steel market with what we know. Hell, we'd put the steel market out of business. And we can easily melt anything else down that others can't and not worry about the fumes. We can strip everything to its raw materials and sell it back to the country recycled."

Harry could only blink at the husband and wife team as the rest of the Coven mirrored Dennis' grin. The excitement of their lives gaining new purpose became an almost tangible thing.

"Here's to Malfoy Waste Management, the greatest cleaners up of Muggle rubbish in the world and our first step in rebuilding the world!"

The building that had stood silent and empty for centuries erupted with the laughter of a family cheering for a future far brighter than the past they had left behind.

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.

OoOoO

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 _7_ _th_ _May 2008_

Melania was a suspicious woman by nature. Harry's childhood under the roof of the abusive Dursleys laid the foundation but it was a way of thinking that only grew as she entered the magical world. It was a way of life within Slytherin House and ultimately became a central part of who she was. So her natural instincts where understandably aroused when her Coven scattered to the four winds and Luna suddenly announced she had a wardrobe.

"Lu, honey," she called out in a faux-sweet tone that didn't fool the smirking blonde. "Why do I need to wear this?"

"You need to change for the nice men," Luna explained in her usual 'I know something I'm going to drive you insane about' voice that made Melania question why she loved the younger woman. "You can't make an impression if you aren't dressed."

She didn't have to ask who the 'nice men' were when Luna was wanting her to change into her SAS M-Squadron uniform. It was apparently time to face this world's version of the government.

Mel sighed as she stared at the uniform. She was already married to Nymphadora when the Neo-Death Eaters rose. The two contacted the British government for help training their Aurors in combat that wasn't about exchanging dangerous lights with the enemy. The talks had gone right to the very top where Mel, Dora, and her closest advisers had to explain to the Queen the truth of what had been happening in her Magical Realm. Her Majesty had agreed to the training of the Ministry's forces only if some joined the military. She worried about the Ministry falling beneath another Lucius Malfoy or a repeat of the Grindelwald War.

They had accepted the conditions and the reasons for them, and many of Mel's friends had decided to sign up. Melania, Dora, Blaise, and Neville were the first of the SAS M-Company while Susan and Neville became British Marines. The Creevey brothers had gone into the Air Force, Dennis following his older brother so that he could "keep the airhead from flying off course just to take the ideal photo of a sunrise."

"Hurry, big sister," Luna called out, breaking Mel from her memories. She went to point her wand at the uniform only to stop at the next words coming through her open door. "And don't do the switching spell. You know the uniform doesn't sit right when you do that."

Mel growled at the truth of the statement and began to change into her uniform. She was putting on the sand-coloured beret with its changed badge – the flame-wreathed Excalibur was piercing a horizontal wand – when the wards announced that three men were approaching the castle. The men stopped some distance from the front door and simply waited, telling Mel that they knew of the wards.

"I don't like this, Lu," she exclaimed when she found Luna standing by the front door with her bone staff in hand. Her friend wasn't dressed to impress which only made her frown more. "And I don't like the idea of you all alone."

"I can look after myself, Melania Black," Luna patiently told Mel. The other woman was smiling despite knowing her friend immediately looked at the scars from her Dark Magic forced enucleation. "You need to go and get our plans started."

"You knew this would happen last night," Melania accused, her eyes narrowing when Luna continued giving the infuriating smile. "You're a mean witch and I don't know what Neville sees in you."

The words were softened by the loving kiss Mel placed on Luna's forehead. There was a rustle of wings and Hedwig gently landed on the blonde's shoulder, softly hooting in promise to protect their little girl.

Melania walked out to face the men waiting for her, hoping her little sister knew what she was doing. The comfort coming through her familial bond with Hedwig helped settle her nerves.

The three strangers were standing apart and straightened when she left the building. The man in the middle could have easily fitted in at Diagon Alley and, put a robe on him, wouldn't have been out of place in a Wizengamot meeting. He was around six foot with grey hair loosely hanging on his shoulders. His aura pulsed with magic, most of it swirling in and out of the false right eye. She knew it was far more powerful than old Mad Eye's little bauble.

The one on the left was the tallest of the three but not by much. His grey hair was short, not quite military cut. There was a sense of service about the way he stood, even in the perfectly cut suit that she knew was handmade. The man's brown eyes never stopped moving, assessing the entire area as though he was waiting for an attack.

The third man appeared to be the youngest of the three but she knew how deceiving looks were. His scruffy brown hair reminded her of Harry's when it wasn't long enough to be tied back and there was a lazy stance to the man that didn't fool Mel in the slightest. The old World War II coat was open to reveal an off-the-rack suit and his smile reminded her of Dennis' when her friend was out for seduction. None of this took away from the very uneasy aura he was giving off that caused something deep inside her to shift. Mel let the feeling slowly grow as she approached the men, allowing the power of the Resurrection Stone to reveal their souls.

All three men were more than they seemed with the third the most extreme and Mel quickly shut down the extra Sight before she began crying over the Truth it revealed. Somehow the man realised she had seen the real him and the boyish smile vanished, replaced by a wariness that she respected.

"Dear Lady," the man in the middle bowed in a way that he never looked away from her. Melania was positive he could feel her magic as she felt his. "I am Sir Warren Traveler, the Queen's Adviser in the Mystic Arts. The man to my right is Sir James Braddock and to my left is Commander Jack Gwynn. To whom do we have the honour of addressing?"

The mode of address was a surprise and for a moment Melania felt as though she was home. She dipped her head in respect to their social standings.

"I am Lady Melania Black, Head of House Black, Co-Regent of House Potter, and I welcome you to this land gentleman."

"And we welcome you to our world, Lady Black," Sir Braddock answered, a sliver of the mistrust slipped past his pleasant smile. "We'd like you to come with us to answer some questions. I'm sure you understand."

"Of course, Sir James, and where is it you'll be taking me?"

"A city called Glasgow," Gwynn smiled, his charming persona not fooling her in the slightest. "It's…"

"I'm very familiar with Glasgow," she interrupted with a smile to keep a sting out of her words. They didn't seem too surprised by her words but then they were politicians. "Shall we?"

The conversation might have been light and friendly but they all knew Melania was on her way to an interrogation. This was even more obvious when the group left the Black grounds and came across a waiting fleet of government vehicles and their accompanying Special Forces protection. Mel's instincts didn't like being surrounded by so many weapons but she did enjoy the ripple of unease that went through the soldiers when they caught sight of her uniform.

"Trust me, big sister," Luna's voice sounded in her ear through the special communication earrings they all wore. The sheer number of concealment enchantments meant it was only Dennis' technomanced addictions that allowed them to do their jobs. "Everything will be fine."

"Why the hell does Melania need to be careful?" An angry Daphne demanded to know. The woman in question fought down a wince at the image of Neville tying Daphne up so she wouldn't hurt Luna. Daphne Greengrass was overprotective of her and had slaughtered people who had only tried hurting her. "What the bloody hell is going on there?"

"Don't worry. It's only the government wanting to talk to our fearless leader."

Mel was thankful that no one was watching her face as she stepped into the large SUV when Luna gave her answer. The loud cries of 'What' almost drowned out Neville's resigned sigh. The mildly insane Seer gave a cheerful explanation of what was happening. The entire time Daphne ranted threats if a hair on Melania's head was looked at wrong.

Susan and Blaise were making detailed and increasingly elaborate plans to both rescue Mel and take out the British military if needed. The insanity had reached the point where Susan was theorising how many dragon constructs she would need to bring the country to a screeching halt when Sir James broke the car's silence.

"The Regiment? Truly?"

The voices in Melania's ears stopped at the disbelief in his voice only to start up again in cries of anger and annoyance at his attitude. Melania raised an eyebrow at his condescending manner while miles away, one Brigadier Alysande Stuart was watching the live footage from the SUV and narrowed her eyes in mutual disgust at Braddock's tone.

"Who Dares Wins, Sir James," Melania answered and her tone was hard and grew colder as she spoke. "And I have spent my entire existence daring life. You are talking to Major Black, leader of M Company, the first magical to complete the adjusted SAS training and the only survivor of the Battle of Balmoral where a home-grown terrorist group looked to assassinate the Royal Family during Her Majesty's yearly stay. Do not disgrace the people who died in that attack by disrespecting this uniform."

The air within the armoured vehicle had grown heavy and Melania's laurel eyes had brightened until they burned the colour of the Killing Curse. She pinned the man to his seat, daring him to speak. Then tension broke when the soldier sitting in the shotgun position spoke up.

"Adjusted, Major?"

The tension slowly eased from Mel as she turned her attention to the speaker, her eyes bleeding back to their true colour as caught his in the rear-view mirror.

"You cleared for this mission, soldier?"

"Sergeant Goodman, Ma'am," the man introduced himself, Melania's attitude bringing out his military instincts. "We're a STRIKE squad; we don't go anywhere unless we have all the Intel."

Mel smiled at the attitude as well as the man's name. Luna's instructions to ' _Go with the nice men'_ now had a different meaning.

"My body is magically boosted, Sergeant, and I come from an abused childhood," Mel admitted with a wry smile. "That means any instructor screaming in my face would find themselves blasted across the courtyard and I can physically outlast someone who doesn't have any boosts. Training had to be longer, harder, and more punishing to overcome our extra endurance and recovery speed."

Goodman whistled but his impressed expression turned into a frown at her shake of the head.

"It ended up the same torture, Sergeant," she promised the man. "The distances run and the weight carried might be longer and heavier but comparing the ratio of my baseline to yours, the effect is the same. It was still a brutal experience that many of my people couldn't get through no matter how much they tried."

The convoy took an hour to arrive in Glasgow and another fifteen minutes to pull in front of a non-descript building. Mel could only shake her head at how familiar the entire situation was. She had gone through a similar situation when first looking to merge Aurors with military training. The government had been paranoid bastards even then.

The Lady Black took everything in as the cars drove into the underground parking. Luna's soft voice was giving a background commentary on everything happening to Melania so the rest of the Coven didn't come in wands blazing. Her little sister's Sight wasn't an all-encompassing thing and normally needed her to focus on a specific event for her to See with any clarity. Seeing the present was far easier for the blind woman to do.

They took her through biometric scanners and a maze of identikit corridors until finally shown into a bland grey room. She would bet all her magic that the giant mirrored glass dominating one wall was two-way. She smirked and nodded at it before facing the man waiting for her. He was sitting behind a steel table shuffling a larger than a normal sized deck of cards.

"Hello, Lady Black," the strange man in silver armour said. His use of her name had her suspect they had monitored the car ride to the base. The armour's chest was black with a golden rampant lion on it while a red cloak hung over the back of his chair. A helmet lay on the table so she could see his short and tidy brown hair. "My name is Albion and I will be your interviewer today."

"That's an interesting name," she commented with a raised eyebrow. Albion waved her into the empty chair and she took it like a Pure-Blood Lady. Her Rich Bitch attitude of straight back and crossed legs at odds with the military uniform she wore. "It's a name I would have expected back home."

"It is who and what I am," the man shrugged, his blue eyes far more intense than the polite words he was using. "It is a calling."

"And who are you when you aren't Albion?" Now that Melania was closer, she was surprised to see that the cards he was shuffling looked like a Tarot deck.

"I have a PhD in History and a BA in English Literature," Albion confessed. He leant across the table to place the deck in front of her. "I've taught both subjects in my time."

"I might keep you in mind if I ever look for a teacher," she answered, cutting the deck without preamble. Melania split it into seven piles, one each for her friends, and then put them together in the order they stood for the ritual that brought them to the world.

"Are you thinking of opening a school?" The question seemed innocuous but there was almost eagerness in the tone. It made Melania pause, considering the idea as he took the deck back.

"We could," Neville's thoughtful murmur came through the earring and the others all gave some noise of consideration. "I don't think there's a Hogwarts for mutants."

"I might," she finally answered, talking to her friends as much as the man in front of her. "Tell me something, Albion. Why all the politeness? You all know I'm from another dimension yet everyone has been polite even with the forceful pickup."

"Our country is an unusual one, Lady Black," Albion said as he began to lay out the cards out in an unusual spread. Mel watched the cards and noticed that the deck was of Arthurian design. She felt it fitting. "We are one of the leading nations in the world and yet, we are still closely tied to our history of myths, legends and magic. It is not that we haven't forgotten the old ways, it is that we know we still live alongside the strange and unusual even in today's world."

"The magic is in the blood and the blood soaks deep into the land," she quoted from the Potter Book, a secret history for the Houses Potter and Black that went back to their creation. It was their founder's philosopher. Albion looked up from placing a card in surprise at the words and then gave her an open smile.

"Exactly," he nodded, finally finishing the spread and placing the unused deck to the side. He didn't look at the cards but leant back in the chair to observe her. "MI5 is about keeping our country safe while MI6 is our foreign intelligence service. Everything you see here is MI-13, who focused on keeping track of the unusual and unique. One thing it has always known about is the ties to the land and Queen that bind our Majesty's Four Lords."

"One family for each of Britannia's lands," Mel finished with a groan and shake of the head, having flashbacks to Harry's fourth year at Hogwarts. "I didn't even think about that. When I used my blood to open up the Arrochar Castle, I tied myself to those oaths. I pledged myself as a vassal to the throne."

"I see you understand the situation."

"Oh, I understand. I could still go nuts and be a threat to the people but I can't be a danger to the Land or Queen. Clever, very clever."

"You don't seem surprised such things are possible," Albion noticed, glancing at a section of the spread.

"I'm not. I'm very familiar with binding magical oaths," she admitted. She had to filter out the quickfire ideas that the others were coming up with to get around any oath. "I'm more disgusted that I didn't think of the possibility."

Albion hummed and there was a moment of silence as the strange man read his cards. He had a faraway look in his eyes when he finally looked up.

"Tell me about your word," he asked and she felt as though he already knew far more about it than she was comfortable with. "The cards say you should start at World War II."

Melania snorted and looked to the two-way mirror. Whether she was staring at her reflection, into the past, or attempting to look through at those watching the interview was unknown to the people in the other room. They all agreed it bordered on the dreaded thousand-yard-stare.

"I suppose that's a good enough place to begin," she admitted, turning back to Albion. "The Magical World had hidden from the rest of society after the Inquisition swept Europe. It locked itself away behind powerful spells and turned its back on the world, letting time pass by without it. It was inevitable that this would come back to cost the Magicals.

"I don't know how it was here but our history books say that the Second World War was like the First, non-magical versus non-magical. That's not quite the truth. The Dark Lord Grindelwald looked to conquer the world at the same time as the Nazis expanded out of Germany. I never learned if he used the Nazis as a shield to hide his activities, was working with them to spread terror, or if it was all a terrible coincidence that two tyrants rose at the same time."

"Our Nazis formed a splinter group named Hydra," Albion informed her. Sharing as she did. "Hydra moved beyond the racist rhetoric and into desiring world domination. We had many heroes and metahumans fighting against both forces."

"And that is the real difference between this world and mine. The Magical society had a law that stated non-magical people were never to learn what hid in the shadows. Those who fought against Grindelwald forces were forced to do so while also making sure they were never found out by either side."

"What happened if they were?"

"I'm sure the same as in this world," Mel shrugged. "Cover stories are made up and if needed, memories are altered to fit the new 'facts.' The Grindelwald War is notable for the rise of the two men whose influence destroyed my world."

Melania paused as the door opened and a man walked in carrying a tray with a jug of water and two glasses. He said nothing as he put the tray on the table and walked out while Albion immediately poured them both drinks. Mel took her glass and cast a wandless detection charm. The water glowed blue, indicating it was free of contaminants. It was Albion's turn to raise his eyebrows at the light show.

"A detection charm for poisons," she smirked, sipping the cool liquid. "Assassination attempts are not pleasant."

"I imagine not," Albion said, impressed by the simplicity of the magic he had witnessed.

"Tom Riddle was a boy born to a witch who died in childbirth and a non-magical who didn't even know, or care, that he existed," she continued. She made sure to put her glass back on the tray so not to disturb the spread. "He was an orphan living during the Blitz, angry at the world and believed himself special because he had magic. He would go on to become a Dark Lord who desired nothing more than to see the world burn."

"Sounds like a delightful fellow."

"He was a murdering wanker whose greatest claim to fame was failing to kill a one-year-old," Melania's spat, her powerful Slytherin mask cracking from its lack of use. "And then we have Albus Dumbledore, the man who believed to have battled Grindelwald and finally put a stop to the man's reign of terror. His fame also pushed him into gaining the role as Headmaster of Britain's best magical school. Riddle would reappear in the seventies under a new name and a very familiar philosophy; the genetics of one group of people being better than the genetics of others."

Mel stared into Albion's eyes and he could see the rage that she had burning beneath her layer of civility. "It turned Magical Britain in the Germany that had the Nazis rise to power. He almost gained total power until he attacked a family who managed to destroy his body at the cost of their own lives, and their child becoming the most famous orphan in the world."

Albion looked down at the cards and frowned, not understanding what he was reading. "You, but not you."

"Show them," Luna commanded and Mel guessed the show was for whoever was watching behind the glass. A mental command saw her body rippling until Harry Potter was sitting there, his uniform adjusting to the physical changes. Albion's jaw dropped to Harry's amusement and he changed back before continuing her tale.

"My family has a history of shapeshifting. My ability is binary. I am one or the other," she explained with a shrug. "By this time, Dumbledore was high up in the government and allowed many of Riddle's people to go free after they claimed to be under his control."

"The Nuremberg Defence," Albion said, shaking himself down to move past the surprise metamorphosis.

"Riddle came back many years later when I was attending the magical school. My friends and I were a major part of the war. We fought against the racism and bigotry on one side and the blind obedience to Dumbledore on the other. We won at great cost but felt we could finally live our lives."

Albion stared at a second part of the spread and seemed to See more than what she was saying. His face softened in a sympathy that filled his words. "Ideas and philosophies don't die."

"They don't," Mel agreed, as her right fingers lightly stroked her left ring finger. "Fanatics from both sides continued to crop up, waging a war that pushed the world to its brink with each act. We kept hoping every victory was us finally winning but it wasn't enough. It was never enough. The cult of those two men destroyed it all."

"You saved us, Mel," Neville spoke into the silence, the tears evident in his voice. "You saved Luna."

"You saved me," Daphne added and Mel's heart broke as she heard the other woman's sobs. The rest of the Coven added their affirmations that she hadn't failed. That she had done everything she could but it was a reality she could only sometimes believe.

She was so lost in the words of her friends that she didn't notice Albion reading the rest of the spread. He nodded to the mirror and to the half-Asian woman behind it. She then turned to one of the other watchers and gave her opinion.

"She's telling the truth as she knows it."

The target for her report stood and nodded to Sir Traveler, imperially walking out of the room. The aged wizard took a steady breath and sent a weak smile to the telepath in thanks before following.

Melania was brought out of her emotional turmoil when the door opened and she saw the Queen's advisor.

"Lady Black, your Queen and Country have need of you once more."

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OoOoO

* * *

 **SN: The communication earrings are inspired by the same used in Fairy Heroes. A funny, if time-loopy Luna-Harmony time-travel story. Give it a read.**

 **So some people will shout "But women aren't allowed in the SAS!" They're right; tradition still says women aren't allowed to join the elite unit. And this is one tradition that should be broken.**

 **People playing the Coven:**

 **Melania Black – Monica Bellucci**

 **Harry Potter – Either Jared Padalecki or a youngish Leonard DiCaprio**

 **Daphne Greengrass – Elisha Cuthbert**

 **Gabrielle Delacour – Sofia Vergara**

 **Dennis Creevey – Jensen Ackles or Viggo Mortensen**

 **Luna Lovegood/Longbottom – A blonde Julie Andrews**

 **Blaise Zabini - Young Antonio Banderas (from Assassins)**

 **Susan Bones – Christina Hendricks**

 **Neville Longbottom – Steve McQueen**

 **Last Edited: 24-11-2017**


	3. Forging the Sword

**AN: I'm very glad to see the positive response to this story. My aim with M to the X is to lead people into the new** **universe in the same way** **the Coven is learning about it. As such, I'm going to treat readers as though they haven't read any of the comics.**

 **Once again, I own nothing but the original concepts and takes on the characters. You can find my Patre0n account under the same name if you wish to leave a tip in the jar.**

* * *

Forging the Sword

 _6_ _th_ _May 2008 - Conference room within_ _a hidden_ _military base, Glasgow, Scotland_

It wasn't the strangest day in Melania Black's life but it would make the list. She had been 'invited' for an interview by the British military only to find it would be done by a tarot reading man named Albion. Now Melania was sitting opposite Queen Elizabeth II with advisors and bodyguards sitting against the walls to provide an illusion of privacy.

One of the new faces caught Melania's eye. She took in the black hair and purple streaks, the vibrant blue eyes and the full figure of the Asian woman and had to clamp down on her libido. The tickling sound of Luna's knowing chuckle in her ear didn't ease her frustrations.

"It must be an interesting thing, the ability to switch gender," her Majesty commented, taking a sip of her fresh tea. Melania had spent more than enough time with her own Elizabeth to translate the comment into 'Explain.'

"People often called my mother the brightest witch of her era. Yet they never accepted how truly clever Lily Evans was," Melania began, taking a soothing sip of her own drink. She never saw the jolt that went through Sir Braddock as she spoke his wife's maiden name. "She was hit by a curse that would attack her and the foetus if she ever fell pregnant. She spent months breaking down the spell, learning everything it did and how it did it.

"I understand that you have mystics in this world. People who are able to learn how to harness the external energies of the planet or universe," Melania said, receiving nods from those around her. Queen Elizabeth listened and waited, taking everything in before she spoke her thoughts. "My people are hard-wired to use magic. Our bodies produce a raw energy that it changes into something that can affect the world."

"Homo magi, Your Majesty," Sir Warren spoke up from his position by the window. He explained to Mel when she frowned at the term. "While the Mystic Arts can be studied by all, Homo magi are born mystical."

The information took Melania by surprise. It also meant that there would be children and young adults suffering from accidental magic. That thought would connect with some of Mel's plans as she continued.

"To put it in science terms, we produce gamma rays which are then converted into visible light with the curse destroying the foetus' ability to convert the dangerous magic into something benign. The mother's magic would attempt to keep them both safe; ultimately failing and one or both die a painful death long before premature birth could be an option."

Soft curses came from the advisors as they imaged what Melania described. Albion scowled with his large hand clenching into a knuckle-whitening fist.

"Her husband was James Potter, son of Dorea Black, and his best friend was Sirius Black," she continued. The china cup was empty and Melania placed it on the table without a single clink. "The Blacks were well known for having a metamorphic ability in their genes. That is, shapeshifting. Are you familiar with the idea of a human chimaera?"

"Of bloody course," one of the men exclaimed. The top two buttons of his white shirt were wide open and the pulled down red tie stuck out at an angle. The short brown hair was wild on top with a spiky fringe that would have suited a man half his age. His roundish face was alight with glee. A similar looking woman in a perfectly pressed Brigadier uniform sighed in a way that reminded Mel of Neville's long-suffering groan when Luna was being Luna. "I assume the metamorph ability has some inbuilt healing factor when changing form?"

"Ordinarily, no," Melania answered after catching the small amused smile teasing the corner of the Queen's lips. She guessed his enthusiasm was a typical thing, very like Neville's if someone mentioned his precious plants. "That was why she used it to make me a chimaera. Harry Potter is her son with James and, not only has different genetics, but also a different magical energy to myself, the daughter of Lily Evans and Sirius Black. As long as an injury isn't fatal, it's possible for it to heal by switching between bodies."

"Fascinating, luv," he grinned like a kid in a sweet shop. "I might need to dedicate myself to a few years of genetic research to really dig into this but…"

"Dr Stuart," Elizabeth snapped. Melania then witnessed a grown man pouting and looking contrite at the same time. The Brigadier glared at her obvious brother and Melania wondered how often the latter was pulled out of fires of his own creation. Queen Elizabeth's next words completely derailed that musing. "One wonders, Lady Black, if that means Harry Potter is not free from the blood oaths that you accepted when you gave your blood to the Black land."

Melania's blink was slow and drawn out. She didn't want to admit it but the Queen surprised her by connecting the dots. She would have denied it if anyone else in the room had asked the question but this was the Queen. The woman might not have been _her_ queen, but Lady Black had spent too many years protecting the royal family to ignore her instincts.

"You're right."

Her Majesty Elizabeth the Second, Head of the Commonwealth and Defender of the Faith nodded as though expecting no other answer. Her tea finished, she put the cup and saucer to the side leaned back and gave a Royal Command.

"Tell me about the Battle of Balmoral."

Melania's heart clenched while her features smoothed as her Legilimancy shields pushed her emotions back. Someone on the commination earrings hissed and the silence in her ears grew heavy. Her link to her Coven members pulsed as their worry and love reached out to ease the terrible memory. Melania barely registered the fact the car ride had been under surveillance.

"I had brought half my company to Balmoral," she began, her voice empty of personality. "There had been relative peace for years but our policing force picked up warnings of an attack on the royal family. The apparent plan was the total destruction of the family to bring the country into chaos, outing magic in the process. It was foolish, it was idiotic, and it was only part of the real plan.

"We were fifty magicals across all adult ages, all who had sworn themselves to the throne. We never stood a chance. It was an attack from both sides of the political divide with us caught in the middle as hundreds of fools, zealots, bigots and mercenaries descended on Balmoral Castle with the same goal; killing everyone there. I charged my wife with getting you and your family to safety while my people did their best to contain the insanity. We never stood a chance. Some of the staff had been replaced or controlled to either blindside us or let in the attackers."

Melania became lost in the memory. Her middle finger ran over her lips and those in the room who had seen battle shifted uncomfortably as their own ghosts rose.

"The total was forty-five magicals, one hundred-and-three innocents, and four hundred-and-sixty-two magical terrorists. That's how many died that day. There was nothing left."

"What was your part?" The Brigadier asked, breaking the oppressive air that had filled the room.

"Avenging the dead," Melania honestly answered. Her eyes had gone hard; the person now looking out of the laurel orbs one that many in the room had seen in the mirror. "I used a ritual to bring the entire place down and killed them all. It gave us another five years of peace."

It was the sanitised answer. It also completely skimmed over the additional fact her ritual placed her in front of Death for the third time, changing her very existence.

"I am sure my opposite did so, but I too will say it. Thank you, Lady Black."

Melania bowed her head to Queen Elizabeth whose gaze seemed to measure the witch's soul.

"Our Land has always been a place of magic and ancient power," the Queen stated. "Blood and magic soaked into the ground and never letting Us forget it. Four families swore oaths to our Land. They swore to protect those of the Land no matter the cost. Two of those families stayed close, one went out into the world, and one died. Now you have appeared and the blood of that fourth runs in your veins, Lady Black. By your own words, you follow the same creed as my Lords here. So I ask, what are you and your people's plans for Our country?"

"Sweet Morgana," Susan breath exploded in Mel's ear. "She's as sharp as our Liz."

Melania agreed and raised an eyebrow to the words the commanding woman had used. The Queen's chuckle brought tears to the Coven's eyes as they remembered a time when they had befriended their own monarch.

"You spoke of your people in the present tense. And we've been monitoring Arrochar House."

Melania snorted at the confession and she gave an involuntary smile. The survivalist couldn't argue with that reasoning.

"Tell her," Blaise nudged when Melania held back. "We know how to disappear. If they really cause us problems, we'll vanish for a decade or two and then start our plan."

"We're looking to open up a few businesses that will change the world. The first being removing the need for landfills and completely revolutionizing the recycle industry, simple things like that."

"What else?" Elizabeth pushed, causing Melania to narrow her eyes. The smirk she received was Slytherin worthy, more so when the Queen continued. "This Land has had a reoccurring dream, that of being a land where Might serves Right rather than subjugating it. When I took the throne and learned the truth of Arthur Pendragon, I knew what I wished my true legacy to be."

"You want to recreate Camelot?" Melania couldn't work out if she was impressed or shocked by the ambition.

"I wish to recreate the _idea_ of Camelot," Elizabeth corrected. She waved a hand around to indicate those in the room with them. "Those you see here are military or government, all focused on the protection of Our people. We do not have a guiding light, a focal point for Us to show the world that We are the leaders in equality across all areas of Our people, normal or mutants or magical, male or female or something in between. We refuse to let any of Our people be harmed due to the nature of their identity."

"Camelot," Melania agreed, doing her best not to let her Gryffindor blood surge. It was the core of what the mundane Camelot had been before the Wizarding World attempted to recreate it in a Pure-blood image centuries later. "That won't be easy."

"And there is another difficulty," Elizabeth accepted. "We have our powered heroes but they too are linked to our Government. We know as well as any the shifting directions of politics. A Camelot cannot exist without an Excalibur to defend it, without a symbol of hope, a light in the darkness of fear and ignorance and hate."

"And the sword has been forged," Luna's eerie voice rang out. Melania had the powerful realization that this moment was exactly what her little sister had been set up.

"Please give us time," Melania asked when it became clear the Queen had ceased her speech. Her Gryffindor self, her purely Harry Potter thoughts, wanted her to leap into accepting but she knew she had to think about more than herself. "This is a lot to think about, Your Majesty. I won't say it isn't what we've considered but we have to talk it through."

Queen Elizabeth gave a short nod of acceptance and looked over to one of the security force members who immediately stepped forward.

"You will be shown the way out. Will you require a ride back to your home?"

"No, thank you," Melania answered, standing at the clear dismissal. She saluted the imposing ruler, nodded to the Brigadier, and spun on her heels to walk out of the room with her back straight. No one spoke until the door had firmly closed behind her.

"She's going to accept," Brigadier Alysande Stewart, sister to the excitable Doctor Stewart, declared and many in the room felt the same way. "She'll assess the threat to her people first but she was tempted to accept as soon as you offered."

"She was somehow in communication with them," Betsy Braddock, Sir James' daughter and natural telepath spoke up. "Even with the jamming equipment in the room, they were able to hear every word. Her emotions settled when they spoke up."

"You heard them?" Her father asked only to receive a negative shake of the head.

"No. It was only a muffled sense of another mind close to her. I couldn't even get inside her thoughts."

"She will question why you were so open with her," Sir Warren announced. His mind struggled to put together a full picture of what his eye had allowed him to See in the powerful woman. "And why she was so open with us. The blood oath is as strong with her as it is for the James and Jack and she ties the others to you and the Land. I Saw that the connection wasn't an accident but not what hand made it happen."

"It is still good news," she declared, looking finally to her Commander. Jack nodded his understanding. He would work up a backup plan in case their gamble fell through. "We must have an Excalibur ready before the genetic divide grows wider. I do not wish to see another World War."

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OoOoO

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 _Rome, Italy_

Magic allowed the forging of a new identity to be ridiculously easy. Blaise Zabini, the Coven's Black Widow and ShadowMage, and Gabrielle Delacour, Veela, Healer, and beautiful woman, had made it an art form. Compulsion Charms had example copies handed over and a mixed dose of the Doubling Charm and some small transfiguration had them in possession of a brand new piece of paperwork. The Coven had been together long enough that they were all familiar with their different false identities, making it easy for the two European magicals to drift around the continent doing the work.

The two had been enjoying themselves until Luna opened the connection for their communication earrings. That the British government noticed their arrival wasn't a surprise to Blaise, but the social strata of those who had collected Melania had taken him aback. Things only got stranger from there.

"It isn't much different to what we had agreed to," Gabrielle pointed out, cutting through his thoughts. They were sitting outside a beautiful small café and each enjoying a caffè corretto. "Curieuse in how she asked, but not different."

They were speaking in English only due to the subject matter. The two were well used to acting as lovers, speaking whatever Romantic language needed to fit in like a local, but security was always important. It was why Blaise had also put up a version of the Muffliato Charm once they sat down.

"We've been here less than a week, Elle," he pointed out, his brown eyes constantly on the move to assess their surroundings. "You don't think this is coming a bit too fast?"

While her own blue eyes were doing the same as Blaise, they skimmed over those her Veela instincts said were only looking because of her looks and allure. Her voluptuous figure drawing the eyes of both men and woman due to her mixed dragon-hide and denim pants that looked painted on and the tailored blouse revealing enough to tease.

"You zeriously do not think a price is to be paid?" Her surprise at Blaise's naivety having her accent slip in a way it hadn't for years. "We both know that what Melania tapped into does not come without strings."

"You think Mel knew this was possible?" Blaise frowned. The idea had merit, as it was exactly what their leader would do if it were for the betterment of the Coven.

"Perhaps," Gabrielle shrugged in a way that caused the waiter walking past their table to stumble as he instantly hardened. Blaise's eyes narrowed at her blatant teasing that got an innocent look back. It faded as the seriousness of the topic once again took over. "She worked with the goddess of the planet, Blaise. She is one with the Hallows. Our Melania has taken steps none of us could follow."

He gave a heavy sigh and flopped back in his chair, calloused hands scrubbing down his face at the truth of his best friend's words. The black t-shirt stretched over his honed muscles and drew his own collection of admirers. Gabrielle knew none would want to look beneath the pleasant face and body to know the darkness that threatened to consume him. Most of them walked the tightrope as they heavily relied on their leader's strength to keep them sane.

"You're right," he grumbled, arms crossing as he took a long look around. The entire Coven had gone through boosting rituals. Yet none of their changes were as drastic as what life, and Death, had forced Melania through.

"I want to do a full medical on all of us once we're back together,"

He nodded his agreement at that. The scans she had performed their first full day in the new world were inconclusive with their bodies showing changes that had confused her. Blaise's mind pulled up hard as he noticed a strawberry-blonde across the street enjoying her own coffee. The woman had a pleasant body with her slender limbs and attractive chest, but it was her movements drawing his attention. They were far too clinical and precise. The woman looked like he did when he hunted.

"Head back to the hotel, Elle," he told his companion in a tone that made it clear she had to follow. "I'll Apparate to the room soon and then we'll hit Paris. I need to check on something first."

Gabrielle didn't ask questions. She had spotted the shift in his body language that changed him from Blaise her friend to Blaise the deadly assassin. A simple nod and the blonde bombshell stood, walking off in a randomly chosen direction. She would continue until she could find a safe place to Apparate and wait for him to meet her.

Blaise didn't bother watching her swaying hips. He was already out of his own chair and headed to the woman with determined strides, his skin tingling at the Monitoring Charm Gabrielle had wandlessly cast on him as she left. His own was buzzing in the back of his awareness, letting him know his friend was still safe and healthy.

The woman had been looking away from Blaise up until halfway through his walk when her head snapped around to stare straight at him. He couldn't help smirking. The movement told him she wasn't working alone and it had been far too long since he had played with secret agents.

Her blue eyes were hard flints, promising to stab him somewhere delicate if he continued approaching. Blaise enjoyed watching them thaw and her body relax, her handler obviously talking fast to make sure she kept her cool. She took on Daphne's Ice Princess' disregard for the male species and he was impressed by how well she carried the attitude.

¬"Hello there, beautiful,"¬ he smiled. The Italian language was as natural to Blaise as breathing and it flowed off his tongue. He knew the exact moment she fell for his seduction act, the dangerous glint in her eyes faded and she sniffed her disdain. It was then that the man once known as the Spider scooped up her hand, kissed her knuckles and dropped his bomb. ¬"I wish you good hunting, little bird. I hope the prey is worth you being the one sent to bring them down."¬

The woman froze. Her breathing stopped and Blaise wasn't even able to pick up a pulse before letting her hand go. The corner of his lips twitched as her hand did the same, obviously wanting to reach for a weapon. He tipped an imaginary hat to her and walked off in a direction that would force her to turn in her chair to watch him. No one around recognised his whistling tune as the Hogwarts Song.

The move had not been a pure Gryffindor one. It wasn't _that_ paranoid to suspect they were on the radar of others and he now had the woman's taste in his Animagus' senses. It wouldn't take much to pick her up no matter what disguise she wore. Now all he had to do was convince Gabrielle of the plan's sanity before she hurled a fireball at him.

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OoOoO

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 _10_ _th_ _May 2008 – Arrochar House_

Melania had not been a happy Lady Black when she Apparated back to Luna. The infuriating blonde had merely smiled and asked what was for dinner, completely ignoring anything and everything ranted at her. In the end, Harry had thrown his hands in the air and made dinner, including the girl's favourite pudding. Sometimes it was a wonder who led the Coven and then days like that proved it was Luna Longbottom nee Lovegood.

The next few days had been hectic for the former Man-Who-Won. He had found his thoughts moving differently than what they had in their original reality. Ideas and concepts popped up that pushed the boundaries known magic. It was very much like how Potions came easy once he studied Lily's journals rather than relying on the lacklustre teaching that had been Severus Snape's method.

The man might have been a genius Potioneer, but he should never have taught anything below NEWT levels.

The strange part of Harry's new ideas and understanding of obscure magic was that it only happened when he was Harry. As Melania, she could follow the notes and understand the worked out concepts but simply didn't _see_ them with the same clarity. A reverse situation was also happening with Melania's Occlumency shields growing in strength yet Harry's remained the same. The others had also reported small changes that Gabrielle promised to investigate once they were all back together.

That day saw Harry sitting at a large table working on a magical blueprint that had once looked like the impressive castle around him. The ghostly three-dimensional image now appeared as a stripped down Hogwarts with parts of Potter and Peverell Manors added in. A large mirror floated off to the side, linked to smaller communication mirrors each of his Coven members carried. They continued to check in on the design process when they weren't making more identities.

"And you're sure this is going to work?" Susan asked for the umpteenth time. She was watching as Harry found a way to incorporate features and rooms from her family's Ossuary. "You're talking about conjuring, transfiguring and enchanting an entire castle here, Harry. That's not including all the wards that we'll be building at the same time."

"We'll only be channelling the power, Sue," Harry promised his adopted sister. The Bones family were an offshoot of the Peverells and he had taken her in as one when he claimed that Lordship. He made sure not to be facing the mirror so she didn't know he was hiding something. "And unless there's someone in the world capable of casting a Finite powerful enough to cancel out the Ley Lines, we'll be fine. Hogwarts' Heartstone is going to make sure nothing vanishes or resets. Hell, give it enough time and you could remove all the magic and it wouldn't change anything."

"I understand the theory, Harry," she sighed. They all did. The fundamental difficulty with transfiguration and conjuring was that nature looked to return the object back to its original state. While permanent cases of both were possible, it was exhausting with the effort increased exponentially the larger the desired result. "But are you sure you can tie the spell into Heartstone and the Ley Lines?"

"I promise," Harry said, moving away from the magical blueprint to a folder that contained their ideas for the future. Ever since the meeting with Queen Elizabeth, Harry had been working on ideas for businesses, a school, and even the Excalibur concept. The Coven knew they were going to accept, it was only a matter of ironing out the small details. "I can't explain it, Susan. I just know that this combination of runes will lock this place into a permanent connection with the Heartstone in a way that not even Hogwarts was. It'll be exhausting to carve them into the walls but it'll be worth it."

Harry wasn't being hyperbolic with his statement. His planned ritual would only work if they carved the runic cluster into the centre and corners of every wall, floor and ceiling of the House, including the outside. It was the secret of his plan; a web of rune clusters that kept the final form of their new home from exploding and taking half of Scotland with it.

Not that he would tell the others that.

The beautiful sight of Hedwig flying through the open window brought Harry back to the present and saved him from more of Susan's worrying. Somehow, the process of bringing them to the new world had allowed his familiar to change back from her raven form. He never got tired of seeing her white feathers.

He ran his knuckles down her soft plumage, making sure to pay proper attention to the owl before removing the letter tied around her ankle. Hedwig hooted and nodded at Susan before hopping across the table to the large plate of bacon that was under preservation and multiplying Charms. Queen Hedwig would never be without her deliciously greasy goodness again.

Susan watched Harry as he opened the letter from Sir Traveler. The two had been in constant owl post communication since the meeting to iron out all the annoying details before they gave their agreement. Avada eyes scanned the long letter while he made promising noises to the information inside.

"The Queen promises that Black Holdings, Potter Industries and all other businesses will be treated like any other company," he summarised to Susan. "While the press and public might do otherwise, the Queen and government promise to do their utmost to keep our business dealings and the actions of any Excalibur group separated."

"Are we really going to be calling ourselves that?"

"I'm sorry, have you _seen_ Gryffindor's sword?" Harry smirked, causing Susan to roll her eyes at the answer. She couldn't deny it would make a good public image. "We're going to be answerable her Majesty only, and a sideways working relationship with this MI-13 they've got set up. No middlemen who might have their own secret agendas."

"This is far too easy, Harry," Susan pointed out, frowning at them getting what they had asked for. Her worry came to a screeching mental halt at his groan from reading further into the letter.

"Well, putting aside they're probably working on emergency plans to take us out," Harry pointed out. She nodded in agreement at the likelihood. "It all comes with strings. I've been made Earl Potter and Lady Black of Arrochar and, if we do as promised with our businesses, there are going to be a lot of publicity events in the future."

The sheer disgust in Harry's voice had Susan laughing. He might have lived over fifty years but the same disinterest in an adoring public remained from his childhood

"Don't laugh, Baroness Bones, you haven't escaped this torture."

"Excuse me?" Susan snapped. The laughter disappearing so fast she was still crying tears even as she scowled. "What the buggering, bloody shite are you spewing Potter? This had better be a prank."

"Oh no," Harry grinned back to the mirror. It was his turn to enjoy his friend's torment. "All the rest of you now have titles. For services rendered to an alternative version of Her Majesty."

"Don't forget the rest of it, Harry," Luna said, announcing her entrance. The blind woman easily making her way to a chair, using her ability to See beyond the here and now to interact with the world around her. She wore one of her devilish smirks that caused everyone sane to run away and Neville wanting to carry her to their bedroom. "It's much better than we hoped."

"You sure you don't want to do it, Lu?" Harry sarcastically asked only to get a tinkling laugh at his snark.

"Nope, you're doing such a great job I thought I'd let you continue. So, carry on."

Harry did he best to ignore the blonde's imperial wave that sent Susan giggling. Some days it was simply best to pretend things were better for him than they were.

"We've got a written promise that there's going to be no dropping us into the crapper if things go rough," he explained. "The military and MI-13 get to call us in for help but we can turn it down if we have a legitimate reason to. 'We don't want to' won't cut it but 'we don't believe this is right' will. And they're going to send us the personnel we've asked for."

Susan gave a serious nod. "I'm surprised they actually have Alchemists here, it's a damn hard subject to learn. The psychologist is going to sign our blood contract?"

One of the first things invented when the British Wizarding and mundane worlds grew closer was a Blood Pen. An enchanted pen designed to act as a modern day Blood Quill with enchantments to keep people from becoming suspicious of it.

"Not only that, they actually want to put us on retainer to provide the pens and contracts for high-security NDAs."

"Our first sale," she smiled at the news, feeling as though they were much closer to making this new reality a home. "And the councillor is going to be a huge help. We all have trouble sleeping."

"That we do," Harry sighed, running a hand over his face. The reason he had focused so much on the blueprint and folder was his struggles with regular sleep. "And it's our second sale. They want to buy a chunk of our Galleons to increase their gold reserves."

"How much are they offering?"

"£14,500 a kilo," Harry shrugged, unsure about the quality of the deal.

"Five hundred thousand Galleons gives us around twenty tonnes," spoke up the Arithmancy genius. Harry and Susan turned to Luna who had tilted her head as she mentally did the numbers. "If we give them the benefit of the doubt and roll down, that makes half a million Galleons more than £250million. That should be more than enough to get things going with MWM and everything else we'll be doing."

"I'd say so," Harry snorted at the amounts, any thoughts of haggling about the gold price flying out of the mental window. Never had Harry's paranoid hoarding after Dora's death seemed such a good idea as it did right then. "We do only half of that deal and it'll still be enough to get us going."

"Then it looks like the Queen has her deal," Susan agreed with a yawn. "We'll go through everything once we're all together again but I'd say we're about ready to start changing the world."

Harry's feral grin at her announcement caused a thrill to go down her back. His eyes glowed with the inner delight he was feeling at their plans.

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OoOoO

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 _12_ _th_ _May 2008 - Somewhere in America_

The woman known within DARPA as Holt Adler stepped into her modest home and threw her leather briefcase onto the nearest chair. It had been a long, nerve-wracking week ever since a powerful wave of energy had rippled across the globe. People and agencies right the way through the American government were in a state trying to work out the who, what, why and where, as well as the 'how to stop it from ever happening again.' Holt was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't notice her teenage daughter racing into the entrance hall.

"Mamma, she's awake! Mamma Irene's awake!"

Holt Adler's form rippled. The brown hair lightened until it was a bright red, the brown eyes turned into a brilliant yellow and her Caucasian skin became deep blue. Raven Darkholme, also known as Mystique, raced past her daughter Rogue and took the stairs three at a time. Her powerful athletic frame making quick work of the distance between the front door and her bedroom where her lover had lain unconscious since the wave hit.

Irene Adler, the blind Seer Destiny, was sitting up and smiling, her right hand already held out for her decades-long partner to take. Mystique ignored it, instead preferring to wrap Irene in a crushing hug.

"Anne says it's been over a week," Irene whispered. Her soft voice showing the shapeshifter that her lover was still weak from whatever had caused her to fall into a coma. "She barely let me out to go to the bathroom."

"Good," Raven said, making a mental note to get something for their daughter as she sat beside Irene's hip. The girl in question gently closed the bedroom door to give the two women their privacy. "How are you, really?"

"Better than I've ever been," Irene smiled. She let herself sink back into the puffed up cushions. "I promise."

"What I saw happen is not the best thing you've been through."

Rather than respond to her lover's scowl, Irene simply patted the back of Raven's hand. "You can destroy my diaries."

"What?" The words shook Mystique. The two had been using Destiny's Diaries for decades, working against the most terrible of visions held within and hoping to turn the future into something better. Destroying them now made no sense to the naturally suspicious and cautious woman.

"Everything has changed," Irene explained with a heavy sigh. Exhaustion was already clouding her words. "The future is in complete flux. Countless futures have been completely cut from the time-stream."

"Sleep, love," Raven told the grey-haired woman who slipped into the land of Morpheus moments later. The shapeshifter sat on their bed and held her lover's hand. Her mind filled with questions even as her heart felt lighter than it had been in days.

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OoOoO

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 _Westchester, New York_

Sean Cassidy, Lord of Cassidy Keep, Irish Rogue and sometime Interpol agent was getting frustrated. The higher-ups in Interpol had grown a dislike of the man called Banshee. His erratic behaviour after losing his wife to a terrorist bomb saw him cross the line between good guy and criminal a little too often to their liking. That didn't stop them from calling on him if they needed his talents but they weren't happy doing so. When his long-time friend Charles Xavier had explained the little they knew from Doctor Strange, Sean had the smart idea to see if his old colleagues had heard anything. A week of playing phone tag, arguments, and exasperation had him hit a wall. The only thing Interpol had was that something was going down in the Britain that was making everyone nervous.

The talk of Britain had Sean sigh and glare at the phone he was holding. He was The Cassidy, the latest in a long line of proud Irishmen protecting his Land and its Fae Families – or the Little People as they were sometimes called – from any threats. That was the way it was until the death of his wonderful Maeve. Now he barely kept in touch with back home. All the talk of Britain had him realise he was due to another check in to make sure the Keep hadn't burnt down. That thought had Sean slip the phone into his back pocket and leave the Xavier Mansion. He was far too sober to make the call. Sean opened his mouth to release a quasi-sonic scream that had him soaring into the air towards New York.

The time after losing his wife was a blurred mess of rage and alcohol. Sean had alternated between burying himself in his work with Interpol, going off reservation enough to get arrested and put on probation by his own people, and man-whoring his way across America where his accent opened legs his heart didn't care about.

A young Sean had been part of Department X, CIA's attempt at forming the X-Men back in the sixties with Charles teaching Sean how to control his powers. They felt the world was their oyster with all possibilities at their fingertips. They had no idea how wrong they were. Someone had injected the entire team with a serum that slowed their ageing not long before everything fell apart. Sean had felt a sense of possible closure when Charles had called for aid after his own team of X-Men needed rescuing. He had hoped for a chance to finally lay the ghost of his friend Darwin to rest.

Sean landed on the roof of an apartment building. He used the fire escape to make his way to street level and then round the block where an Irish pub waited for his money. He took his perfectly poured pint of Guinness to an empty table and downed half the drink to prepare himself for what he was about to do.

The line rang three times before Eamon O'Donnell, the Cassidy Seneschal and the man who had Sean had seen grown into adulthood, answered.

"It me, Eamon," Sean announced without preamble.

"It's about bloody time ye git," the man Sean had wanted to help raise his children snapped. "I've been sayin' fer years ye need to let me have yer number."

"What's got yer goat?"

"What's got me goat, he asks," Sean could practically hear the man's eye roll through the phone. He was only partially paying attention to the ranting, focusing instead on his drink. "What's got me goat is that the Families are all excited. The Dubhs are back, Sean! There's a bloody Dubh back in the world!"

The spit-take caught the attention of everyone in the pub as Sean sprayed a half-mouthful of quality alcohol across the table. The painful stinging told the spluttering and coughing Banshee that the other half had come out of his nose. Chuckles rose around the pub as everyone tried working out what the shocking news had been. Playful guesses were on a pregnant lass.

"Buggering shite," Sean wheezed, trying to catch his breath. There was no doubt in his mind on a connection between the long-lost family coming back to the old lands and the mysterious woman everyone was chasing.

"Sean?" Eamon's voice went from joy to worry as his Lord failed to respond the way he had expected. "Why do ah feel like yer not as happy as ye should be?"

"Because they've already made waves, my friend," Sean explained with his head down, thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose. "Looks like ol' Banshee be coming home soon. Thank you, Eamon."

Sean didn't give his Seneschal a chance to answer before he hung up and tossed the expensive phone onto the hard wooden table. Banshee swore in his native tongue at the mess he seemed to have found himself in.

"That's quite a mouth you have on you," an ethereal voice proclaimed. Sean's head snapped up to reveal a strange and disturbing sight.

A woman with long blonde hair was sitting opposite, her hands resting on the top of a bone white cane. She wore a mountain of sheer silks that overlapped in all the right places to keep Sean or anyone else from seeing something she didn't want them to. She had a large lily tucked behind a delicate ear while her eyes were behind the reflective lenses of her purple cat-eyes sunglasses. Sean's blink of confusion turned into a frown when he realised that no one was looking at the woman.

"Can ah help ye lass?" He asked, reaching out to nudge his glass off to the side in case of an attack. There was no reason for him to risk what was left of the Guinness.

"You're welcome to visit, Singing Man," she answered in a strange tone that sent shivers down his spine. It reminded him of the village elders who had spent too long speaking to Sprites. "You will bring the Man Who Forgets, the Wind-Rider and the Woman Who Dreams."

Sean swallowed his suddenly dry throat and asked the most important question. "Are you Fae?"

The strange woman leaned forward and her smile was all teeth. It made Sean want to curl up in the corner and promise he'd be a good little boy.

"Tell He Who Hears All that he may bring the Blind Apostle and anyone else he wishes to face my Lady Black. But, you four _will_ come. Do not make me find you, Sean Cassidy. The Canary will cry and the Siryn will rage but the tears will be worth it as long as you four come. I promise."

The woman was gone in the time it took Sean to blink at her final words. He could no longer remember what she looked like but the important thing remained, burned into his mind. The X-Man known as Banshee raced out of the pub and into a side alley to scream, his power rapidly taking him into the air.

He had a message to deliver.

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OoOoO

* * *

 **SN: And there we have more manoeuvrings as people react to the Coven's introduction. You'll see more X-Men next chapter as well the return of some favourite characters of mine. Hope you enjoyed the read.**


	4. Manifest Destiny

**AN: So...it's been a while, huh? My plan was to get to some serious posting in January but computer issues threw me for a loop. Two laptops died, my PC needed a restore and I had to dig into my emergency backup files to retriev everything bar the old Son of Potter chapters. I've got a Patre0n account that will have running updates on my writing and where you can leave tips if you feel so inclined.**

 **A huge shout out to Timuzhti for not only being a good Beta but dealing with how long it sometimes takes me to reply!**

 **TimothyB brought up the question of why Harry and Mel keep switching rather than sticking to one or the other. What you should remember is that they're fourteen/fifteen in Son of Potter, Daughter of Black and are just getting used to their new identity. This Harry/Mel has had another forty years of living with two forms.**

 **Think of it like Dora. While we all know her bubble-gum pink hair, that doesn't mean she wouldn't go months looking completely different as the mood takes her. Harry/Mel is fully comfortable switching between bodies and** **hasn't** **had a reason to stick to one over the other in years.**

 **I understand if some people have difficulty in recognising some of the characters used so far. The Coven is mostly dealing with Marvel UK people right now, but they'll end up expanding and working with more familiar names soon.**

 **A question for my readers – Excalibur isn't involved in all the MCU films during MCU: Phase 1. Would you like to see my written version of those films/scenes as outtakes? (They would be canon for M to the X.)**

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Chapter 4 – Manifest Destiny

 _12_ _th_ _May 2008 – Westchester, New York_

"There is no memory of her," Charles Xavier said, drawing his mind out of his friend's. His office was once again bursting with his X-Men, both full and part-timers, and they had all heard of Sean's experience with the strange woman at the Irish bar. "She hasn't removed herself from your memory; rather it is as though she was never in your memory to begin with."

"How is that even possible?" The only other telepath asked. Jean knew there was far more about telepathy that she needed to learn, but she always believed the wiping of memories left psychic clues.

"I don't know, Jean," Xavier admitted, leaning back in his high-tech wheelchair. The machine had arrived over the weekend from Reed Richards and he had enjoyed taking it for a spin. "A telepath is still in someone's memory even if they convince the conscious mind to ignore them. This is as though she was never there, and Sean's mind was forced to come up with an image to fill in the blanks."

"I think we need to talk about the message, sir," Cyclops spoke up. He was in his exercise uniform and the wide yellow visor hid most of his upper face. The frown, however, was clearly seen by all, as were the tense muscles from where his arms were crossed. "It sounds like a threat. Bring these people or else."

Logan's advanced senses picked up nerves in one of his fellow X-Men's scents and the feral Canadian turned to the young German of the team. Kurt Wagner, bright-eyed, blue-furred, and pointy-tailed looked like a kid's fuzzy toy version of a devil but the young man had the heart of a champion. Nightcrawler felt his intense gaze and looked over at Wolverine.

"Logan?" He asked in a soft, heavily accented vocie. The rest of the room caught the sound, and all looked to the two men.

"Speak up, Elf," he told the kid who had been slowly growing on him. "I know you got something to say."

"Yes, Kurt, please," Xavier added. "If you know something that might make this clearer then please share."

Kurt's three-fingered hands nervously rubbed together and when he spoke, it was in a carefully controlled tone. "Her vords are those of someone who sees beyond."

"A witch?" Piotr Rasputin asked. The gentle Russian giant was one of the X-Men who was still finding their way after leaving his family's farm and tended not to push his views too often.

"That's not really a surprise with what Strange told us," Robert "Bobby" Drake pointed out only for Ororo to shake her head in the negative.

"I believe Kurt is speaking of a prophet or someone similar. People who see into the nature of others instead of the surface face that is shown."

"Ja," Kurt nodded, sending the older woman a relieved smile that she understood his meaning.

"Then shouldn't we work out who she meant?" Alex Summers, Scott's brother, asked from his position beside his green-haired wife.

"That's the easy part," Logan scoffed, smirking when both Summers brothers scowled at him. "Chuck is obvious, same as 'Ro and Banshee. I'm the Man Who Forgets, and One Eye is the Blind Apostle."

Scott shifted his body as though to challenge Logan who merely kept smirking. The Wolverine had made many comments since joining the team that Cyclops followed Xavier's 'give peace a chance' philosophy far too rigidly. The macho posturing was broken when Jean spoke up.

"And I am the Woman Who Dreams," she stated, her green eyes having watched Xavier through the entire conversation. "I think the important question is what is so important about this family."

"Not who else is going with you?" Lorna Summers asked, wrapping a slender arm around her husband to keep him from getting between the still posturing Scott and Logan. Jean shook her head and red locks fell free from her loose ponytail.

"We need to know who we are dealing with first."

"Sean?" Xavier prompted, glancing at the man who had some of the answers. The Irishman sighed, slouched into his chair as though not wanting to be there. He was absently playing with his pipe, fingertips running over the smooth wooden surface as though seeking comfort in its familiar feeling.

"The Cassidy Clan was tasked with looking after the Fae who still lived in our world when the majority stepped sideways into Avalon," Banshee explained while staring off into the distance. "The Evans, now Braddock, Clan, was tasked with protecting and guiding the throne, while Clan Gwynn was all about the common people. The Blacks have had a few names, but their nature remains.

"They're heroes, Charles, heroes," Sean stared into his oldest friend's eyes and then turned his haunted gaze over to Logan. "But heroes in the way that the X-Men aren't. They are the light in the darkness that promises a safe haven for the lost and innocent, but death and destruction for those who are their enemies. It was said that that the most painful suicide of all was to anger a Dubh. They're ghosts. Slipping into building and coating a room with the blood of their target yet no one ever knows they're there."

He shook his head as though to pull him away from his own words and scoffed at himself.

"Listen to me, telling ol' tales me da used to spread about the MacDubhs. But that's the thing, Charles. The only thing anyone knew for sure was it paid to have the Blacks as an ally and cost to have them as an enemy. They're the Crown's Left Hand, their Hand of Darkness. Gods almighty, Charles, there's little about the Blacks I can tell ye that _isn't_ rumour and myth. Out of all four Clans, the Blacks are the ones who slipped identities and roles until no one knew what was who or who was what."

"Well, that sure helps," Alex snorted, and Sean winced, not blaming the kid for his attitude.

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OoOoO

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 _13_ _th_ _May 2008 – New York City_

Hank McCoy, sometimes known as Beast, was sitting in a relatively quiet café contemplating his life and existence. His huge, blue-furred body was hidden by a holographic form that was as close to a match to what he would look like as possible. It was a long time since Hank McCoy had looked human.

He had come a long way from his time as a CIA researcher, meeting Charles Xavier, and facing down a potential world war in Cuba. There were some nights that the erudite man felt he had never left the beach where he saw the true power and threat of Magneto for the first time. His dark thoughts were shaken off by a most interesting woman entering the café.

She was a little less than six feet tall by his calculation with below shoulder hair that framed a very intriguing face. Her eyes were initially hidden by dark green sunglasses only for her to slide them up to her rest on top of her brilliant green hair. In fact, the first word he thought of the woman was how _green_ she was. Her eyes sparkled, her full lips smiled, and both were shining in the same colour but different shade to her hair. The viridian suit and skirt hugged her enticing figure and Hank was so caught up in her image that only rose to take her hand on instinct.

"Dr McCoy, Abigail Brand," the unique woman introduced herself. His holographic eyebrow rose at the name as she firmly shook his gloved hand, released it with the same focus and sat before he had a chance to offer her a chair. "It's good to finally meet you."

"A pleasure, madam," Hank smiled, retaking his seat. "To what does the Special Director of SWORD want with one such as I?"

"Surely you jest, Doctor?" She smirked, Hank once again finding himself mesmerised by the unique colouring of her lips. The woman who worked beneath Nick Fury waved the incoming waitress away without even paying the young girl any attention. "I run the leading organisation in the world dedicated to protecting our planet from external threats."

"Pardon my correction, but you run the _only_ organisation in the world dedicated to such threats."

The comment had the lady Brand throw her head back and laugh in a way that had Hank drawn to the strong lines of her throat. He shifted his thoughts away from such frivolities and pushed on.

"You could be a space version of Renoir's _Bain à la Grenouillère_ , basking in the relative peace of the cosmos while remaining aware of how easy it would be to fall into the tides before," he pointed out in his unique way. "Or you could be a Parisian Green lure, tempting but only requiring a mix of lead arsenate to become an incredibly deadly substance to be around. So, Miss Brand, what is it that SWORD wants with me?"

"That's probably the most unique way someone has ever used to describe my situation," she pointed out, all flirting vanishing during his little speech.

"I've been called loquacious in my time," he shrugged, unrepentant in ruining the mood.

"You're one of the smartest men in the world, one of the world's leading experts in mutant physiology and biology and probably know more than ten of my best people. Given SHIELD's suspicions of a shakeup in Xavier's little group, I thought I would sound you out on the possibility of coming to work for us."

"What does SHIELD know?" Hank asked, clearly worried about the surveillance of the place he considered home.

"Alex and Lorna Summers are looking into moving out of state, Robert Drake has enrolled himself onto a summer course, and Worthington is spending more time with his girlfriend. Throw in Jean Grey getting an apartment in the city and it doesn't take our best analysts to work out there's a changing of the guard happening."

"And I lament it will only get worse," Hank sighed, quickly waving his hand when her eyebrow rose in question. He knew he would need to speak to Charles about how closely they were being watched. "A simple case of chasing shadows, Miss Brand, nothing to worry about. What is it you require of me?"

"I understand you have loyalty to Xavier, Doctor," she explained, her manicured nails – painted green – tapping on the table as she spoke. "For starters, how about you become a consultant? You can continue to live at the Institute while we send you information we need your expertise on. It'll all be encrypted, and you'll have a lot of Non-Disclosure Agreements to sign, but you already know how that works."

"I do," Hank agreed, tilting his head to the side as he considered the offer.

"I can't promise we won't need you to get more involved but having you on speed-dial would be a help going forward."

"I agree in principle, Miss Brand. Do be sure to send me the paperwork so I know exactly what is being asked of me."

"Oh, Doctor," she smirked, bringing her large sunglasses down to cover her emerald eyes. She stood as a predator, smooth and dangerous. "It'll be my pleasure."

.

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OoOoO

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 _Arrochar House_

The Coven sat ready for Gabrielle's medical report, together again after their slightly illegal activities. The two teams had left a large number of false names in birth databases across Europe and North America. Most were simply a name without history, but some were detailed and officially created. The wizards and witches had even slipped into the offices at night and over the weekend to input the information to speed things up. None of those who had been away from Arrochar were surprised when they returned to find the large manor covered with the required rune clusters. They all worried about the hours their leader had spent carving when she should have been resting but none were foolish enough to bring it up.

After all, they all had their nightmares.

Gabrielle Delacour strode into the room as though appearing on a catwalk, the image only slightly ruined by her heavy frown.

"We have all been changed," she instantly began. Some unladylike French was added at the end that had the friends grinning even as they shared nervous looks. "I cannot say for sure without a mutant to compare to, but our genetics have been altered where I would guess this so-called 'X-Gene' is located."

More annoyed French swearing followed with the Veela heavily questioning the parentage of anyone who thought a single gene could do everything that was being suggested.

"Can you tell what our powers are?" Neville asked, wrapping his arms tightly around Luna as she leaned her back into his strong chest.

"Non," she spat in frustration, the shake of the head throwing her already dishevelled hair everywhere. It was obvious she had been running her hands through the thick blonde locks while trying to find answers. "I will eventually, but I need mutants to test the charms on. Perhaps if we were only magicals but we aren't. Our rituals changed our very DNA and I had to rebuild the Healing Charms every time we did. I need some non-magical mutants to see what my scans can show before I can do something for us."

While disappointing, the news was anything but a surprise. They knew the cost of the rituals they had all performed to aid them in their survival of the Long War and wouldn't change any of them.

"We're safe to move ahead then?" Melania asked, only to get glared at by the angry Veela whose bare arms rippled with potential feathers.

" _You_! You do not get to speak," she snapped, and the room was filled with heavy sighs and eye rolls. "You were a Mancer before we came here, just over twenty-one hundred Flamels. And now you're a Mage! Your magic shifted up an entire level, Melania Black, and I want to know why!"

Mel blinked at the furious woman, fully aware that the others were looking at her with concern. It was almost unheard of for a person's magic to increase in frequency beyond their thirties without ritualistic aid. She was so focused on ignoring the glares that she lost control of her mouth.

"You told me not to speak."

Susan's backhanded slap against her hip told Melania that channelling her father was probably the wrong approach.

"I told you what the ritual was for," she sighed, running a hand through her hair to help soothe her nerves. It was a habit she had even as Harry. "That's exactly what the ritual was supposed to do, increase my power."

"Mel, you told us it would power the gateway," Blaise pointed out and she winced at his cool tone.

"It did, sort of. I was pumping my magic into the gateway ritual while my magic was being changed. That's why it hurt as much as it did."

"Is that the only thing you haven't told us?" Neville's question was filled with the sound of his pain and she winced again, almost able to read his thoughts through the words. She hated disappointing the Coven even when she continued to do what she knew they'd disagree with.

"No," she replied, honestly, pulling herself to her feet as her arms wrapped around her ribs. The others tensed, fearing what they were about to hear. "I had to allow the Hallows to bond with me. I wasn't told why but they aren't allowed in this reality and having them bond with me got around that."

"Mel, sweet Jesus, Mel," Dennis whispered, his eyes wide at her words. He was quick to stand and pull her into a tight hug and she breathed easier from his familial scent. "What about the temptation?"

She nodded into his chest and pulled away so she could see the others. "I know, I know. I've got the Wand and Stone buried deep inside me and the Cloak has never done any whispering. I'm okay using the Cloak and I think I could get away with using one of the others briefly."

"Are you sure about the Cloak?" Daphne's quested was more a pleading than anything else and her eyes were moist at the idea of losing Melania to the seductive power of the Hallows. The Coven had been forced to pull her back from the edge a number of times and none were pleasant memories.

"I'm sure," she promised, walking up to the other woman to cup her cheek. Daphne leant into the touch and closed her eyes, drawing strength from the physical closeness. "It's been used far more often that it doesn't try seducing the rightful users. I don't understand why but the Cloak activates when I Apparate now. Heck, it doesn't even feel like Apparating when I use it that way."

"That doesn't make sense," Neville frowned, trying to work the information through. Luna had tilted her head back so that her blindfold stared up at the ceiling and only Susan noticed how innocent she was attempting to appear. "How does a power that makes you totally invisible help you move from place to place?"

"No idea," Mel shrugged, turning back to the somewhat calmer Gabrielle. "So, are we cleared to rebuild this place?"

They could all tell that Gabrielle was reluctant to give the answer, but she eventually nodded her consent. She had found no medical reason to not perform a ritual that Harry had managed to come up with on the fly. She mentally rolled her eyes at that thought as Melania grinned and then spun out of the room with everyone automatically following.

Carving the runes and planning their future weren't the only things Mel had done while the others had been away. She had also dug out a cavern a hundred metres below the very centre of what would be their home. Melania took the Coven out to the central courtyard and the small tunnel that would lead them deeper.

"Let's see if this works," she mused. Before any of the others could react, the world shimmered in the way that they associated with the Cloak of Invisibility and they were suddenly in her cavern.

"Mel," Dennis said. His tone was steady despite what they had just experienced. "Did you just mass Apparate us without any physical contact?"

"I think that's called teleporting," Neville pointed out from where he was inspecting one side of the stone cube they were standing in. The area was a perfect square, carved with runes across all six surfaces and traced with what looked like extremely old blood. He spun around to stare at his sister in shock. "I know this place; it's in Godric's journals. You didn't just take Hogwarts' Heartstone; you swiped its chamber as well!"

Melania couldn't help the smirk that pulled at her mouth as she stepped into the middle of the cube.

"Well, why only steal the diamond when it comes in such a nice box?" She joked, reaching into her pocket to pull out a small yellow quartz crystal.

There was a round of shaking heads at her antics as the Heartstone leapt off her palm and took its spot in the exact mid-point of the cube's dimensions, growing until it took up exactly half the cube's space. It hovered there under the power of its own magic, a magic that was over two centuries old, and the pulses within the Heartstone felt almost eager to the mortals around it.

"So, all we have to do is bond with it and keep the image of Castle Black in our minds?" Susan asked, eyeing the Heartstone as though seeing it as a potential threat.

"That's all you have to do," Mel promised.

The Coven had all memorised what their new home would look like, right down to the style of doorknobs preferred. No detail was too small or big and the Occlumency-remembered images would be poured into the Heartstone to show it what to create. Part of the rune cluster Harry had created would allow Luna's Seer ability to connect to their future home, using their magic and the Ley Lines to bring an idea into physical reality.

Each member of the Coven stepped forward until the pulsing gem was surrounded, its yellow glow causing their shadows to dance along the granite walls. They each took a knife from somewhere, Melania's was the same silver blade that had long ago been used to bind her uncle to Harry's self-made wand, and palms were cut. Seven pairs of bloody palms slammed against the Heartstone with each Coven member pouring their magic and very essence into it. Melania stood for a moment as she mentally focused, pulling her body's ability to shift into Harry's form out until she shivered from teetering on the edge of morphing. Her blood twisted in her veins as it constantly shifted between their DNAs and only then did she add her own palms and power into the ritual.

The yellow Heartstone erupted with a blinding light. The seven intersecting Ley Lines became visible, golden cords passing through the granite walls, through their bodies and into the stone. The bloody runes all around them glowed white and if they had been able to see beyond the Heartstone's light, they would have seen the runes dance over the granite's surface to find a brand-new configuration. Above them, Arrochar House was coming undone. Rooms blinked into and out of existence, moving from one area to another and either growing or shrinking depending on what it was and what it was becoming. Walls thickened, becoming magic-infused stone while also growing veins of copper, aluminium and optical fibre as Dennis' Technomancy caused the entire building to be modern technology ready.

The strain on the Coven was immense as they channelled just a portion of the Ley Lines' power to bring about their creation. Their minds began to buckle under the pressure until only the essence of what they were trying to create remained instead of the perfect image they had all memorised. Daphne and Luna poured into Castle Black a sense of home and family, of offices to conduct business, playrooms for children to enjoy, welcoming areas to accept visitors, and areas to enjoy both passions and hobbies. Art rooms, printing rooms, multiple duelling and physical training rooms grew in detail from what they considered to be Home.

Neville formed the aura of a family Hall that would stand the test of time, of a strong and powerful base for a House which would refuse to be bowed or broken by its enemies. A concept of family reaching back centuries and beyond filled the birthing halls above them, mixing with the echoes of Hogwarts to make a place that both inspired and intimidated. Susan's addition was the hidden truth of the Ossuary. A place of welcoming and power that held more within its deepest shadows, of a land and family willing to do anything to keep itself and its loved ones safe. Of a home that could be reformed from the ashes by the will and blood of those it protected.

These ideas saturated the forming Castle, giving it an aura which would have dwarfed everything bar Hogwarts at its peak from their original dimension.

Gabrielle and Blaise unconsciously added their own personal touches. Hidden rooms sprung up beneath stairways, secret passages and stashes of weapons and places for protected information grew between rooms and hallways. Daphne added the sense of power, of prestige, of a home and building that contained not only the blood of a magically powerful family but a business and politically powerful one too. A giant ballroom for galas, a second, far bigger, kitchen ready to create a feast.

Castle Black's reality solidified, becoming a home that was ready for love, for the dedication to a cause, and to be a place that allowed those within to grow into whoever they wished to be. And as large as Castle Black grew, its foundations mirrored to contain everything the building was.

One by one the members collapsed just before the magical drain would have become fatal until only Melania and Neville remained. Melania refused to allow her brother to handle pain that was exceeding what she had gone through to open the portal to bring them to this new home. A gold ring faded into existence around her middle finger, its dark green stone having the marking of a joined triangle, line, and circle, and deep within she pulled free the seductive power of the Elder Wand. Mel's veins darkened to a pulsing red as its power flowed through her and she poured her all into the stone, only partially aware that she had broken Neville's connection with the Heartstone.

Her own concept of Home filled her senses. The moment Harry Potter saw the majestic Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for the very first time, of enjoying wandering its halls and exploring its histories. Then it was Melania's time in Grimmauld Place, of the library that she had claimed as her own that allowed the learning and understanding of even the most derived and hated magic, of the time chamber that had given her the chance to properly connect with her family that first summer, the study and hidden rooms that were so typical to House Black, and the sense of love and protection she had felt when she ripped its wards away from the bastard Dumbledore.

Mel screamed as reality above them finally _snapped_ together with the last piece of the new Castle Black popping into place. The others were already passed out and never knew when the magic of the granite walls added to the ritual to create the protective wards that would stretch for miles. For the second time in less than a month, a magical wave rippled across the world as everyone and everything suddenly had their reality rewrote to think Arrochar House had always been Castle Black.

Melania finally crumpled as the ritual finished. The magic the Coven had unleashed still sparking in the Heartstone's container. The ring housing the Resurrection Stone glowed and the three shapes etched on the stone began glowing different colours.

There had once been three house-elves who had undying loyalty to Melania, house-elves who saved her life and those of her friends and family more than once. She had saved theirs, the bonds between them and her growing until they became far more than an ordinary Master-elf relationship. In the end, one of her enemies had got sick of them being her ace-in-the-hole and released a worldwide curse that killed all house-elves. She had spent hours pouring her magic and will into their dying bodies, refusing to let those she considered family pass on. Ultimately, it was all futile, and she buried the elves in her family plots.

The ritual to create Castle Black had caused Melania to reach deep and pour what would make it a home into the Heartstone. It was the same sense of home that had been missing since she had held the cold hands of those house-elves and cried for their loss.

The stone flashed three times before it sunk back into her finger and with each flash, a form began to shimmer into reality. Gone were their old bodies, instead they looked as Melania had always seen them.

Winky Black was only a little shorter than her Mistress with short, spiky blonde hair and dressed in jeans and a loose pale-pink blouse. Dobby Potter had a mane of wild black hair to his shoulders and a mischievousness gleam in his bright eyes that would have made Sirius Black proud. Leather covered his legs while a black t-shirt with the logo 'Mischief is Never Managed' was spread across the front. Kreacher Black was bigger than the others, his shoulders wider and his face marked with a scowl that warned anyone that he was dangerous. He wore trousers and a white shirt, the sign of a proper manservant, and had his arms crossed.

"Mistress always did overwork herself," Kreacher declared with a shake of the head. His brown hair was military cut and added to his serious air. "She hasn't stopped since coming to this world."

All three elves knew everything Melania had done since their deaths. Their features were those of elves from legends and her magic had given them the intelligence to match their Mistress.

"Then we shall take care of her," Winky demanded, looking around at the pile of bodies surrounding the resurrected elves. "We shall take care of all of them."

The male elves nodded, and a series of pops took the Coven to their waiting bedrooms. The humans would wake to find their possession unpacked from the many trunks they had brought with them. The elves would take a little bit longer to get used to.

Outside the new Castle Black stood a beautiful woman of indeterminate age and origin. Her grass green robe was fluttering in non-existent air as she brought her arms down from carefully manipulating the Ley Lines and powerful ritual. Gaea gave a small, loving smile to the large building and the window that she knew housed her sleeping Champion. The theory behind the ritual had been sound but her Champion had taken too much on their shoulders and would have broken if not for her own secret guiding hand. Bringing back the elves had not even needed her to step into Death's realm as Melania had unconsciously drawn the creatures' souls into her own rather than permanently lose them. All Gaea had to do was nudge the powerful stone within the ring to bring the souls back and provide fitting bodies for them to take.

The Elder Goddess looked to the heavens where she knew the Norse god Heimdall watched in frustration as her protections kept the Coven hidden from All-Seeing eyes.

"Do what is right, not what is easy, Illuminator of Worlds."

The dark-skinned protector of the Bifrost shifted as he felt the weight of the First Mother's attention. His king had demanded he be informed of any signs of the seidhr but there had only been a wave of power and nothing to pinpoint the location of Odin's targets. With those mental gymnastics performed, Heimdall breathed a sigh of relief as Gaea's presence faded from his senses.

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OoOoO

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Gaea's Champion opened his Avada Kedavra eyes to find himself in a land of grey fog. The utter silence of the world immediately clued Harry in on where he was and he closed his eyes and opened his senses until he felt a pull off in a seemingly random direction.

"Hello Darkness, my old friend," he began to hum, beginning the journey towards where Death awaited. Each step shifted his body between his own and Melania's, and it was only seeing the growth and shrinking of their breasts that had him realise that he was once again naked. While the image wasn't as disturbing as it had been when he was fourteen, it was still a distracting sight.

"Don't dress! Don't dress!" A childish voice called out as he was about to imagine up some clothes. "How can you be yourself when you hide in a dress?"

"Because the dress doesn't make me who I am," he answered, dragon-skin trousers appearing over his legs while a loose tunic covered his chest. "You don't like people who hide?"

"Can't hide from me, oh no siree, I can see, I see."

"Do you like seeing?" He asked, thinking about his beloved Luna. The comparison only increased at the strange voice's reply.

"I have to see. I'm not me if I don't see."

"You've accepted yourself," Harry smiled into the fog while his eyes held a spark of sympathy for the owner of the voice. "That's more than most people have."

"And have you accepted?" The dry rustling voice of Death asked from behind Harry. He calmly turned to see the form of an attractive woman. He had seen Death take many different forms over the years in their secret meetings and never asked why she seemed to settle on this one. It wasn't his place.

"As much as I can," he answered, truthfully. It always paid to be truthful with Death. "I'm only human after all."

"For now," Death replied. Harry frowned at her words but was then distracted when he saw the Black Knife appear in her hand. The Knife was an intrinsic part of the Black family, storing and sharing the fighting skills of all those who had gone before. It had been invaluable to Melania in surviving many battles. "The deal was struck, the bargain has been made. Powers beyond mortal reach turn their eyes to the Nexus World. They turn their eyes to you."

Death lifted the Knife up and began to run a finger over the blade's tip as someone would across the edge of a wet glass.

"What do I do?"

"Be more than you are," Death answered, pushing her palm onto the blade, pushing her hand down to its hilt A black smoke rose from the Knife and the silence of the realm was broken by a disturbing hiss. He watched in fascination as Death lifted her hand back up the Knife in the same slow manner she had stabbed it. "Grow into your role."

"How?"

Death turned the Knife around and offered it to Harry handle first. He could see the Eye of Horus on the smooth grip and the blade now had black etchings along its side.

"A sacrifice of blood, speak the words, and their power shall transfer to you. The cost is the same as the deal."

Harry took careful hold of the handle and the words Death had spoken of were suddenly there in his mind. Her grip tightened around the blade and her dark, fathomless eyes narrowed.

"Remember, my Champion. It is one use per soul. Break the spell and they are free from its curse."

"I'll remember," he promised. The fog closed in around them and his vision blurred as Dream was pulled away by life. Somewhere in the darkness before her body woke, Melania was sure she heard a voice speak. _Be careful, my Champion._

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OoOoO

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 _14_ _th_ _May 2008_

"Wake up, bitch," the dulcet tones of Gabrielle Delacour snapped.

Melania groaned, and her laurel eyes fluttered open to reveal a large room that looked like Hogwarts' Hospital Wing would have if it had been modernised. The irate Veela was glaring down at Melania and tapping her wand furiously against her own thigh, a tic that the Coven knew meant trouble.

"I heard your breathing change," she explained with a growl. "You did it again. You took too much on yourself and lied to me about the ritual."

"Technically I told the truth," Melania declared. It was a weak defence even to her own ears. "Susan asked if that was all _you_ had to do, and it was."

Anything else the Lady Black thought of saying went out the window when Gabrielle's non-wand hand erupted in flames. It was only through instinct that had her out of the bed before the fireball landed where she had been laying. _Perhaps I have been pushing things a bit too far_ , she thought, forced to dodge another tossed flame. She was saved by having to face more when Gabrielle's screech of rage alerted some of the others.

The first two to appear in the Hospital Wing almost cost Mel a flame to the face as she was struck dumb by the site of a much-changed Winky and Dobby. It was only Dobby's quickly created shield that kept her from losing eyebrows that she knew Gabrielle would refuse to help grow back.

The Coven raced in through the thick double doors and Gabrielle had broken into a French tirade of epic proportions, but Melania only had eyes for her elves. She would know them anywhere, even with their change in bodies, and the tears she had buried at their deaths threatened to break free from joy. The Veela's tantrum subsided once she realised the object of her complaints was taking no notice of her and there was only silence in the Wing as everyone waited to see the expected breakdown.

"How?" The single word was filled with pleading, not so much to understand but to make sure they were real.

"We never left you, Mistress," Winky answered, stepping forward into the arms of the woman she had essentially raised when Harry had finally been told the truth of his birth. The two females would have broken the bones of anyone else from how tightly they held each other, the love they felt for each other a living thing that hung in the air.

Winky eventually pulled back so that Dobby could step forward. Melania instantly shifted into Harry so that the lost boy and beaten elf who found friendship and freedom in each other could meet again. Harry's tilted smirk appeared as he took in the hair his friend was now sporting.

"You're a real Potter now, huh?" He joked, the words coming out in a thick croak.

"I always was, Harry," Dobby smiled back. The eyes might not be as wild as they had once been but there was no doubting the elf behind them. "You've been a right mess without us."

Harry snorted, not even bothering to defend himself from the accusation. His smile slipped as he realised someone was missing, the worried look easily read by his friends.

"Kreacher is downstairs keeping some Spooks from getting too nosy," Dennis announced, and none missed the relief in Harry's face at knowing Kreacher was also back.

"I don't care about the how, I'm just glad it happened," Harry proclaimed. It wasn't that he didn't have a guess, it was more he didn't want to speak about his connection with Death. "Were we expecting any visitors?"

"Since you were passed out for the entire day, you wouldn't know that we got an emergency letter," Gabrielle snapped, obviously still frustrated with his willingness to put himself in danger. "I knew you would be up today, so we agreed for them to come. Whatever the issue is, they felt we needed to know."

Harry nodded at the information and closed his eyes to connect with Castle Black's wards. The rush of information was initially overwhelming, but practice and experience had taught them all how to ride the initial link through. He could feel the others linked the wards and the presence of the group of government agents in one of the meeting rooms Castle Black now possessed. He ran through the layout of the castle, picking out the biggest things that seemed different to what their initial design had been, and then let the link settle into the back of his mind.

"Well, let's go speak to the nice government lackeys," he cheerfully proclaimed. He stalked out of the room at a fast pace, letting him call the Black Knife from its hidden place just long enough to determine that the new markings were actually there without the others spotting it. Death's gift was something he would need to really think over before using and now was not the time.

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OoOoO

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Peter Wisdom was a man with sharp cheekbones, scruffy black Potter hair to his shoulders, and a lazy attitude that hid a fierce soul. The tinted glasses put a dark gleam to the blue eyes behind and there was a packet of cigarettes sticking out of his suit jacket where a pocket square should have been. Harry took the measure of the man in within moments of shaking hands and knew he was someone Harry would fight beside but not wish to fight against.

"What can we do for you, Agent Wisdom?"

"It's what MI-13 can do for you and your people, Lord Potter," Wisdom smiled, retaking his seat in the same smooth motion he had stood when they entered the room. He slid a thick manila envelope across the table while being careful to keep as much out of Harry's reach as was polite. "I've got your official identity papers here as well as the details for a brand-new bank account with the money for the gold you agreed to sell us."

Harry pushed the thick package over to Blaise without even looking down. The Italian wizard cast wandless charms to make sure it wasn't dangerous and then ripped into the contents, checking every with an experienced eye.

"It's all good, Harry," Blaise promised. The group knew that there were ways to move the money into a different account and out of the way of the government if they wanted to. Wisdom seemed actually happy at their paranoia, or at the very least respectful of it.

"I've also got two people who would like to sign up for your gig here at Arrochar."

"Caer Danu," Harry interrupted. While their home was now Castle Black, the lands around it that fell beneath Harry and the Coven's control would be known as Caer Danu, the Stronghold of Danu. "Keep Arrochar as the official name but we call it Caer Danu."

"I like it," the purple-haired woman that had been at Melania's meeting with the Queen said. She and an older man were the only people Wisdom had brought with him and Harry could guess why.

"Well, Bee, that leads me into the introductions," Wisdom smiled, and Harry felt as though he was facing down the basilisk again. _This man is dangerous_ was a thought the Coven had at his laid-back manner. "This lass is Elizabeth Braddock, also known as Betsy, and daughter of Sir James."

"I'm known as an Always-On Telepath," the half-Asian young woman proclaimed. Her red shirt was open low enough to reveal her tight black top designed to support more than show off her firm breasts. She had a graceful movement even in sitting that reminded Harry of watching Andromeda using her knives. "It means I'm always taking in information around me even if I don't want to. I can help you get a read on people without them knowing I'm poking about in their minds. I'm also a qualified pilot."

Harry blinked at the last part and looked sideways at Neville who sat beside him. "Private plane?"

"It's a good status symbol," Longbottom instantly agreed. "We're eventually going to get into the upper echelons of the rich and famous and need a way of moving around that's both secure and impressive."

"Dennis?" Harry turned to his technology expert who was already busy mentally calculating the project.

"I need the best-looking model we can get," the Technomancer informed Wisdom. Dennis' glamour was firmly in place to hide his artificial arm from outsiders. "The avionics need to work but don't worry about anything else. I'll fix up whatever is needed on the inside."

Wisdom's eyebrow was rising at the efficiency of the group working together while Betsy was startled at how in tune their thoughts became during the entire conversation. It was shocking enough that she almost missed when Harry turned back to her.

"Why do you want to join us?"

She held her silence until getting the nod from her boss and then explained to the listening magicals.

"I'm part of MI-13's Psi-Division but all that really means I'm a specific cog in one special wheel of MI-13. I want to be more involved in making the world a better place and I think I can do more good working here than at MI-13."

Daphne's eyes narrowed as she turned her attention from the interesting woman to the man her instincts wanted to kill. Her tone was frigid when she asked her question. "And what happens to Miss Braddock if we say no?"

"Nothing," Wisdom answered with a shrug. "She carries on with her duties and it's never brought up again. We put a memo out for volunteers who would be willing to be on the ground floor of a new 'department' and Bee here was offering herself before its ink was dry."

Blaise looked at the dark-skinned man in jeans and tee-shirt who had yet to speak. He looked roughly Neville's high of a little over six foot and had enough muscle to be intimidating if Blaise was into being intimidated. "Is that the same with you?"

"No," the man answered in the same bland tone the question was asked. "I'm Dredmund Cromwell. I've spent my life studying and working on engineering and chemistry until I found papers in my parents' estate that linked us to a clan of Druids. I've been researching Druidism and alchemy ever since."

"You're the one Traveler said would help us with the potions," Susan proclaimed, and the man did a partial bow with his upper body at the accusation.

"I'm excited to actually learn from people who have been studying potions all their lives. Being self-taught is not an easy road to take."

"Nor is being a Druid," Neville added, and there was something new in his gaze as he assessed Dredmund's worth. "I took twelve years before my mentor said I was ready to branch out on my own. If you settle in here and are willing to learn…"

Neville let his sentence fade off with a shrug, but the meaning was clear. Cromwell's aloof mask broke at the idea of learning from a master and he seemed to lose years off his life at the prospect. The joy was short-lived as it was interrupted by Harry groaning.

"I'm going to need the best Personal Assistant in the world to keep up with everything," he complained, looking up at the ceiling as he remembered how hectic life could be with social engagements.

"Good luck with that," Betsy said, snorting at the idea. "That's Pepper Potts. She keeps Tony Stark from diving off the deep end and only just at that. There's no way she'd leave that gig for this."

Harry's brilliant green eyes latched on to her blue at the name and she saw the glint of the devil in the gaze. It made her reconsider if the man in front of her could pull off the impossible.

"Now that the good stuff is out of the way," Wisdom proclaimed, drawing everyone's attention as he slid over a folder with the MI-13 name stamped on the front. "Here's an olive branch from us to show we want this relationship to work. You've already got some people looking for you."

Harry immediately spun the folder around and threw it open to reveal the files within. He partitioned his thoughts to read and listen as Wisdom continued.

"The bald guy is Professor Charles Xavier, . in genetics, biophysics, psychology, anthropology, and psychiatry. _The_ leading authority in genetics when it comes to mutants and mutations with his colleagues Moira MacTaggart and Hank McCoy close seconds. He is also a mutant telepath of a level that's off the charts. It's believed he could pluck the secrets out of a person's mind half a world away and not even stop eating breakfast."

"Why is he after us?" Blaise demanded, contingencies already beginning to build in his mind on how to take out such a threat.

"Our entrance into this world," Luna answered before Wisdom could. "People felt it and they fear our steps."

"Pretty much, little lady," Wisdom agreed. "He was once part of a CIA sponsored group of mutants looking to be heroes back in the 1960s. Their only mission prevented the Cuban Crisis from escalating into open war but then the program fell apart. Mostly because one of its members because a mutant terrorist and took half the group with him. Seven years ago, Xavier starts recruiting mutants and two years later the 'X-Men' are out there saving people."

"It says here that his students were teenagers," Harry pointed out as he flicked through the slender file of the original X-Men. A lot of the specifics were considered educated guesses but there was enough for Harry to frown in distaste. "Shit, this Drake kid was fourteen when he entered Xavier's school. You're saying he was training them as soldiers that early?"

"We honestly don't know," Wisdom confessed, speaking loud enough to be heard over the angry noises the Coven made at what they were hearing. "What we do know is he took four kids in and in two years produced a decently trained squad of mutant fighters for equal rights."

"You said four kids, but this group has five members," Susan pointed out as the files were shared among the team. Wisdom was nodding before she finished her point.

"Hank McCoy worked with Xavier during the same CIA mission. The entire group were injected with a serum that slows down ageing. Who did it or why isn't known and no one in the CIA ever came forward as the culprit.

"Last month something pushed Xavier to start reaching out to more mutants," Wisdom continued with the briefing. They were beginning to impress him with their reactions and attention to detail. He hadn't believed the report stating this group had been militarily trained, but it was beginning to show. "Older mutants from across the world, one was another member of the CIA team, one's a teenager from Russia, and another is a Canadian Black Ops nightmare that scares _everyone_."

"Is he trying to recreate the original team?" Daphne asked.

"One of that team is dead, three more have become mutant terrorists with warrants for their arrest in multiple countries, and another refused to be involved even though he has his two nephews as part of Xavier's school," Wisdom was shaking his head at the suggestion. "We think something happened with his first group since they've now been observed taking actions indicating they're leaving his command."

"So, he's replacing them with older versions," Neville mused, and it was difficult to ignore the doubt in his voice.

"Again, unknown," the disgust at not knowing was clear in Wisdom's. "What we do know is the entire squad of old and new members flew from New York to Muir Island yesterday. For those in the class who are geographically impaired, Muir Island is not only the home of Moira MacTaggart and the largest, most complex mutant research facility in the world, it is also less than a two-hour flight from this location."

"They're coming for us?" Harry asked, his face going blank as the dangerous man he had become revealed itself. The same change happened with the rest of the Coven and Wisdom just barely kept himself from pulling his gun on them. He had a feeling it would be the last thing he ever did.

"One of the X-Men is Sean Cassidy," Betsy spoke up, her telepathy revealing far more than what Wisdom's instincts were. Where Wisdom looked at the group as a threat, Betsy saw them and the ruthlessness they possessed as exactly what she wanted to be a part of. "He's the fourth Lord of the Land and the only one you haven't met yet. I believe you can have parley with the X-Men on Muir Island with us and Cassidy as intermediaries. It would be against Xavier's psychological profile for him to be coming to attack you. It's more likely a show of force as he assesses your threat level to the world."

The intense assessment Harry Potter gave Betsy when she finished speaking sent waves through her body and her pulse to quicken. Daphne smirked knowingly as though fully aware of what the gaze was doing to the other woman.

"You just might be good enough for the team," Harry declared. The rest of his family knew that this was the military leader speaking and not the man who welcomed all who were on the side of good. "Luna, will it work?"

Although no plan survives contact with the enemy, Harry trusted Luna to assess the most likely chance of their plans working while refusing to rely on her during an actual mission unless she offered. It was a balance he struck to make sure his little sister never thought they only cared about her for her Sight.

"Make it you, Melania, Neville, Daphne, Blaise, our new ninja, and someone from the British government who has power. Any more and things will go bad."

"I'm sorry, I'm a little confused," Dredmund spoke up, frowning at Harry. "I was under the impression that you _were_ Melania as well."

The feral smirk did nothing to ease his confusion.

.

.

OoOoO

* * *

 **SN: For those curious about the magical frequencies thing. Imagine it as a version of the EM spectrum with the lowest frequency being the purest form of magic. The higher the frequency, the more energy is within the same amount of magic. This is not a be-all, end-all way of knowing who will bet who nor is this the full description. That will come later in the story.**


End file.
